The Love Song of Norman Bates
by Vema
Summary: Norma's actions push her relationship with her son into unknown territory. *SPOILERS PAST THE SEASON TWO FINALE* Super incest-y, don't read if you don't like it. This is the happy ending the characters were never meant to have.
1. Chapter 1

_The Love Song of Norman Bates_

 _._

 ** _Hello there! In case you missed the update on my profile here, I've recently become a huge fan of Soul Bates. Normally, I try to stop my incest ships at siblings, but this mother/son pairing is so canon I hopped on board the ship._**

 ** _In this fic, though it can at times be disturbing and strange, I aim to give Norman and Norma their happily ever after. AU from the last episode of S2, and fairly long. I do plan to finish my other fanfics eventually, but it's been very hard to link together what I know is going to happen with what has happened already. I promise I'm still alive, and working._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy this, and in case it wasn't obvious... INCEST ABOUNDS AHEAD._**

.

.*o0o*.

.

 _"Let us go then, you and I,_

 _When the evening is spread out against the sky,_

 _Like a patient etherized upon a table..."_

.

It wasn't until later that Norma realized her mistake. She'd been so desperate, then so relieved, that she hadn't considered the consequences of her actions.

After all, she would do anything to keep Norman with her; they had to be together.

Their lips separated and still she felt the need to crush him to her, holding on to him as she tried to suppress the wave of despair that threatened to consume her. Five words finally freed her from it, the fear in her belly unfurling, easing in the wake of his voice.

"All right, Mother. ...You win."

The rest of the day was spent fawning over him, her precious boy that she had nearly lost to the darkness; it was her greatest fear, that the shadow inside him would win. A wholesome dinner was prepared, dishes cleaned side by side, and she shooed him off to the shower as he kissed her cheek.

Norma listen to the pipes running and clanging, changing into her robe. She brushed out her hair and laid down, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression as her mind's eye filled with visions of Norman behind the solid walls of a prison, bullied and terrified, unprotected. It couldn't be allowed.

The faucet squeaked; the water stopped. Clean and fresh in his pajamas, Norman walked into her room, and she moved aside for him without a word, curling towards his solid warmth as he settled next to her. Her head fit easily into the notch of his neck and shoulder, and she breathed his scent deeply. Sleep was absent as they cuddled and stroked, gazing at each other in shared dread of the test to come the next morning. There was no sound but the scrape of clothing against sheets, the rasp of her thumb caressing his cheek, and their quiet breaths.

It was nearly dawn when they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, too exhausted and distressed to separate for even a moment.

.

 _And all my days are trances,_

 _And all my nightly dreams_

 _Are where thy grey eye glances,_

 _And where thy footstep gleams_

.

Norma woke to the sun straining her vision, and her eyes snapped open, trying to focus on the clock. The face read half past nine in the morning, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned onto her back, still secure in Norman's arms. What strange dreams had been in her head; a faceless man, long limbs, sleepy kisses, and contentment. Dreams bled into reality as she became aware of her son holding her.

"Good morning, Mother," Norman rumbled sleepily. His long arms squeezed her closer momentarily, and the next second he was leaning on his elbow, hovering over her.

"Norman?" she murmured, her hands automatically rising. One gripped his bicep, the other cupped his cheek; her first impulse was always to pull him closer.

She wasn't surprised when he leaned down to kiss her, but she was when he lingered, his lips caressing hers for an unusually long time. When he pulled back, she stared up at his open and serious face, still inches from her own. "I love you, Mother. More than anything."

After a stunned silence, she smiled brightly up at him. "I love you too, Norman." There was a moment when she was looking up at him, his lips curved up into a drowsy smile, that she forgot her anxiety and fear. "You're the best part of my life." Then the fright came rushing back as she considered that she might still lose him. Sitting up slightly, Norma gestured to the clock on the nightstand. "We've got an hour and a half before we have to be there for the polygraph."

His expression fell slightly. "I'll... I'll go get dressed."

Norma's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. He was sure he wouldn't be coming home with her, even more sure than she was; he thought he was guilty. "You're innocent, Norman," she whispered, as he stood. He responded with a skeptical frown, which she decided to ignore. "Norman, honey? Wear something nice. That blue shirt and the blazer? You always look so handsome in blue."

"Of course, Mother." He did give her a genuine, if small, smile with a little laugh. "You can use the restroom first. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Rinsing off quickly in the shower, Norma set her hair, threw on a pretty dress, and went about making Norman's favorite breakfast, hotcakes and bacon. It was a hold over from her Midwestern upbringing that she called them that; hotcakes, not pancakes. Francine was raised in Missouri, she remembered, deep down in the Ozarks where the bacon and eggs were fresh and the milk was raw. In the good days, when Norma was two or three years old, she'd make them hotcakes every Sunday before she and Caleb would put on their church clothes and they'd sit repentant on a wooden pew.

Norma didn't know at the time what sins they were atoning for, but now she could remember all too clearly.

She shoved those thoughts from her mind as she heard Norman entering, his presence behind her dragging her into the present. "Do you need me to help, Mother?" he asked quietly, his breath stirring the hair behind her ear as his hand found her waist.

Shivering, she turned and leaned back slightly, looking into his blue eyes, the eyes she passed on to him. "No... No, sweetheart. Sit down and I'll bring it to you."

Chair legs scraped on linoleum, and she heard him settling into his seat at the head of the table. She stacked three steaming hotcakes and brought them to her youngest son, pouring maple syrup over them as he looked at her adoringly. "Thank you, Mother," he uttered quietly, the intensity of his gaze making her legs shake.

She shook her head slightly. "You're welcome." The squat pitcher thudded against the table as she put it down, looking at him a little too intensely as she licked the excess syrup from her hand and sat across from him.

Meeting his gaze, Norma took a sip of her hot tea, struggling with herself internally. Something felt... off. She found herself suddenly, inappropriately hyper-aware of Norman; his gaze, his body, his smell, his touch. She had awakened something inside herself with that kiss. It was something dark and shameful, buried deep inside where it should have stayed buried.

She took a breath, unsure what would come out when she spoke, but stopped when Dylan walked in. Instead, she smiled wanly. "Hey, Dylan, good morning!" she exclaimed with false cheer. "Sit there next to Norman. Would you like some hotcakes?"

Her oldest son looked like he would protest for a moment, but in the end he sat next to Norman and gave her the normal morning she craved.

.

 _"And indeed there will be time_

 _To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'_

 _Time to turn back and descend the stair..."_

.

Norma barely registered how quiet Norman was on the drive home, she was so giddy. He had passed the test; he would be staying with her, they would be together as they should be. "See, I told you! I told you that you were innocent, Norman!" she exclaimed as they pulled into their drive. She gripped his hand tightly as the engine cut out, eyes sparkling.

Dylan rolled his eyes slightly. "Like we ever doubted it." He patted Norman's shoulder, gripping it solidly before he left the car and headed back up to the house.

Norma watched him go for a moment before turning back to Norman with a beatific smile on her face. She embraced him and kissed his cheek, giggling with the rush of adrenaline and endorphins his reprieve had brought on. "I'm so relieved-

"Mother, wait..."

She pulled back, expression falling. "What is it, honey?"

"Dylan... he's not in the house yet."

Eyebrows knitting together, Norma pondered this confusing statement. "What...why does that matter, Norman?"

Now he was smiling devilishly, clearly amused by something. "Well, you don't want him to see us, do you?" he asked, looping his arm over her shoulders as Dylan disappeared inside the front door.

"What? He always sees us," Norma responded, confusion still written all over her face as she leaned into his touch.

Norman laughed, finally infected by Norma's joyous relief, and embraced her properly, pressing his face into her neck and kissing it. His lips closed over the soft spot below her ear, his teeth digging gently into her skin as she lost her balance, swooning into him with a throaty groan. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her skin erupted in goosebumps, and needy dampness spread between her legs. "Mother," he nearly growled, pulling her closer.

With a jolt, Norma pulled away, fumbling as she attempted to pull the handle, face flushing brightly. "I'm- I'm sorry, Norman," she said, cursing her poor coordination.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

She felt shame rushing over her intensely. He had no idea what he was doing; she was taking advantage of her youngest son in the worst possible way.

She was worse than even Caleb.

A sob erupted from Norma's lips as she finally opened the traitorous door, stumbling out into the blinding sunlight that illuminated all her sins. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed out, hand rising to cover her mouth. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's all right, Mother, just let me-" His hand smoothed over her back and she immediately leaned back against him. "What happened?"

Telling him would be impossible; she could never let him know. She allowed him to support her for a moment, his arm wrapping around her waist as she wiped her tears. "It's just been a stressful day, Norman," she said, defeat heavy in her voice. "I'll be fine. I just need to get into the house."

His arm tightened around her and he urged her gently forward. "Of course, Mom."

Norma let him lead her up the stairs, taking a kind of perverse solace in the solidity of his frame. He opened the door for her and took her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack and turning expectantly towards her with a somewhat hopeful expression. "I think I'm going to lay down for a while," she said quietly, unable to meet his eye. He let her go without another word.

.

.*o0o*.

.

To Be Continued...

.

Quotes taken from

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"To One in Paradise" by Edgar Allan Poe


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

.

 _ **Things are getting pretty steamy now. Those who have read my fics before probably know, but sexiness abounds in this chapter. Admittedly, it's a kind of disturbing sexiness, but I love it anyway. Do not read further if you don't hold with incest fics - it'll be easier for both of us.**_

 _ **Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Reviews are appreciated, as usual.**_

 _ **.**_

 _"Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,  
We know, we know that we can smile;  
But there 's a something in this breast,  
To which thy light words bring no rest..." _  
.

Norma finally got out of bed around seven, still feeling overwhelmed and fragile. Having spent the whole afternoon denying her improper attraction to Norman, she had finally decided she couldn't hide forever. She pulled her periwinkle robe on over her night gown, took a deep breath and steeled herself.

Her self control had always been one of her strengths.

Neither of her sons were in evidence when she descended the stairs, so she quietly padded into the kitchen, adjusting her pale blue robe and putting the old fashioned tea kettle on to boil. Chai tea had always been a comfort to her, and Norma pulled down a jar of loose leaf India Chai, setting out her mother's antique teapot, dark blue with pink and gold metallic accents. The matching cups were easy to access, and she set out two of them out of habit, despite Norman's absence. As she observed the extra cup, the kettle began whistling, but even that didn't blot out the sound of the front door slamming shut.

She turned as she lifted the kettle, Norman's silhouette dark in the entrance from the sitting room to the kitchen. "Oh, Norman, honey," she said sweetly, moving to pour the boiling water over the sun-shaped infuser Norman had given her for Mother's Day last year. "I guess I slept the day away... Here, I'm making the Chai I ordered from Budapest. Sit down and I'll get us both-"

Suddenly he was there behind her again, impossibly close. The spoon she was holding clattered down onto the counter, and she turned, looking into Norman's eyes and unsure what to expect. He'd moved up on her as she'd prepared the tea, both his arms circling her waist, but his face didn't show the darkness she had half expected. "Sweetie?" she asked breathlessly.

.

 _"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;_

 _I know the voice dying with a dying fall_

 _Beneath the music from a farther room..."_

.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said quietly, hands slipping down to her hips."I was worried."

"There's no need to worry," she laughed, hands steadying herself on his shoulders. "I'm fine, just fine, especially now that you're here with me."

Norman smiled and they laughed in quiet delight together. Norma started to turn to pour the tea, but at the same moment, her son leaned forward and captured her lips for a second time that day. Her hands rose to his chest and she froze, losing herself in his presence for a moment. It was okay, it was okay, she wasn't...

His tongue slipped between her lips, and she thrust her hips forward without thinking. "Norman-" Instead of reprimanding, her tone was encouraging, and his pelvis pushed into hers as he found that perfect spot behind her ear again. "Stop, you don't, you don't have to-"

"I _want_ to," he growled, licking the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "I thought this was what you wanted too, Mother," he continued lowly, grinding into her. "You're the one who started it, after all. It's what I've wanted for some time now, but I didn't know how to tell you, wasn't sure of your feelings until that day in the forest."

She could feel his hardness pressing into her hip and her head spun. He pulled back, and his eyes were black; she knew he was lost inside himself and she put a hand on his chest. "Please, Norman, please. Let's... Let's talk about this, let's wait-"

"I'm through with waiting!" His voice was harsh, his hands no longer quite gentle as they held her in place.

It didn't scare her, not like it had when it was Caleb or Sam or Keith Summers holding her down. It seemed natural, like his hands should always have been there keeping her steady. "Norman, please," she plead quietly, tears gathering in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, seeming to come back to himself. "You think you have to do this, I made you think you have to, when I kissed you, but you don't! You don't, and you won't remember..."

"I'll remember," he whispered, resting his forehead on hers, his hands rising to cup her cheeks softly. The swipe of his thumbs traced the hollows under her eyes. His words were warm on her lips as he spoke. "I promise, I'll remember. I won't hurt you, Mother."

All her air left her in an indecent exhalation, not quite a breath, but not quite a moan. When he caught her mouth again, she didn't resist; he was soft and sweet, his nose bumping hers for a moment before he adjusted his angle, an eager groan vibrating into her.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this, was it? Norma collapsed into him, more taken by this one simple kiss that she had finally abandoned herself to than the thousands of kisses she'd had before. Warm arms and a hard chest kept her standing as her leg came up to wrap around him. His hand dropped to her knee, bunching her robe and night dress,and began to glide up her naked thigh. "Norman," she mumbled quietly again, her mouth never quite separating from his, as goosebumps erupted all over her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make you feel good, Mom." He never hesitated, hand smoothly inching up her skin as his eyes held hers. "Just let me touch you..."

.

 _"I'll tell you I've changed._

 _I'll tell you,_

 _the red on my lips isn't wine."_

 _._

"What if Dylan- Oh..."

"I saw him leave before I came to find you," Norman said, fingertips slipping just inside her. "You're wet for me..." He was breathless and bolder than she'd expected, and Norma was trembling against the kitchen counter.

He pulled his hand back and swept her up in his arms as she squeaked in surprise, carrying her swiftly to the living room and depositing her gently onto the old sofa, kneeling before her. "Spread your legs," he ordered quietly, eyes serious but clear; he was in control of himself.

"Norman," she protested weakly again, "This is... this is wrong..."

"But you want me. I know you do." He shouldn't sound so sure of himself if she had been doing a good job of hiding her legs separated slightly, and he leaned forward between them, resting his head on her chest. "It's been hard, watching you. Even when... Even when Dad was..." He stopped, struggling internally with himself. "Seeing you with men, I didn't understand at first,but... What I was feeling, it was jealousy. I was feeling jealous."

"Oh, Norman," she said, and she tilted his head up so she could look at his sweet face.

Her son's hands slid up to her waist, his eyes earnest, but darkening. "No one should be touching you but me," he rasped, fingers pressing almost painfully into her flesh. "No one will ever touch you like this again, but me, Mother."

"Yes," she said automatically.

.

 _"He kneels only to me,_

 _calls me Queen, calls me Mercy..."_

 _._

Smiling, Norman pushed against her knees apart further and lifted her robe and gown until he could see her sex. She was glistening and gorgeous for him, as he'd always known she would be, her pretty slit surrounded by trimmed blonde hairs.

He didn't understand why she was hesitating. Wasn't this conclusion sealed yesterday when she had stopped him from ending his life? The day she kissed him, really kissed him? He'd stayed in this world for her, after all.

Everything he did was for her, always for her.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, watching a small drop slide down her folds. He used his thumbs to spread her open, to see all of her. He was so hard, ready for what would naturally follow, and his body would like nothing more than to bury himself inside her and find his pleasure.

He wouldn't, though, not now. He kissed her thigh instead, moving his lips so slowly towards his goal that her legs moved even further apart than they had been. "Is this okay?" he murmured against her skin.

"If... if you want to..." Her voice was tremulous, but Norman smiled up at her, understanding the disguised plea, and completed his journey forward. She was musky against his tongue as he pushed inside her, and her knees hitched up as he found the spot that made her squirm.

"Ah! Oh my God," she panted, one hand clawing at the cushions. After a few moments, feeling her climax building, she looked down and saw his brown hair and his closed eyes. He had a blissful expression on his face as he kissed and licked her pussy, and she lost all semblance of composure, a small string of nearly incoherent obscenities with his name in between leaving her mouth. She gripped his hair in her fingers, bucking up into him. "Norman... Fuck, yes Norman...!"

He took this as encouragement that she was close and pushed two fingers inside her rhythmically, flicking his tongue over her bud. Norma's thighs began to shake on either side of him, a long keening leaving her, and she came, clenching around his fingers and thrusting onto them with a loud cry.

A few moments later, he was fumbling with his zipper, wrapping his wet hand around his length, and imagining that tightness around him. "Ah..."

Norma leaned forward and captured his lips; she tasted herself on him, and kissed him sensuously until she felt him tense and jerk, warm ropes of semen landing across her stomach and thighs. Norman shivered against her, his hand slowing until they were both still and panting against each other. Then she collapsed backwards, and he followed, pressing the mess between them with a satisfied sigh and kissing her cheek as he always did.

Suddenly, Norma pushed him back and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, _God_ ," she exclaimed, a completely different inflection behind it. "Oh my God, Norman!" she sobbed.

"Mother?" he asked fearfully, confusion coloring his words.

Before he could rise and adjust his clothes, she was halfway up the stairs, and by the time he had followed her, her door was sealed shut, the unused lock finally turned to keep him out. He pounded a few times, but finally desisted at the sound of her weeping. "Mother," he said quietly, and her crying faded, so he knew she could hear him. "I'm going away now, but I'll be back before bed. We need to talk." He descended the stairs, trying to ignore the renewed sounds behind him.  
.

To Be Continued

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"The Buried Life" by Matthew Arnold

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"Persephone Speaks" by Daniella Michallen


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

.

 ** _Things get complicated. As if they weren't already. There isn't a lot of preface I can give this, but it's definitely a "fix-it" kind of scenario. I'm loving this ship, and I hope you are too! Please let me know what you think!_**

 ** _._**

" _And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,_  
 _When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,_  
 _Then how should I_ _begin_?"

.

Norma hadn't let him in later either, and Norman had let her have the time. He worried and fretted and started to feel faint, but he found, quite unexpectedly, that he was able to fight his way out of a black out now. He saw his mother standing in the corner, but instead of speaking she just smiled and winked out of existence.

His memories were coming back in bits and pieces as he listened to his mother cry throughout the night and realized he'd been hallucinating about her for well over a year. He remembered all the pieces now, remembered his father hurting Mother, remembered suddenly deciding to kill him. He knew now what had driven him to murder Blaire Watson, and he _had_ killed her. He'd known he wasn't supposed to be with anyone but Mother, even if it was subconscious, and that piece of him had railed against what was happening. It wanted to rid the world of the person who had tempted him away from her.

The guilt was nearly overwhelming, and he quietly shed his own share of tears. The first hours, Norman considered turning himself in, polygraph or no. He needed to atone for his sins. Then, he considered what might happen if he really tried it. He might black out again on the way to the police station, his mind unwilling to let him be apart from Norma. He might run away, he might hurt someone else.

In the early hours, he decided he would stay. It only made sense. It wasn't indulging himself, it was saving everyone else.

The two just happened to coincide.

.

" _And would it have been worth it, after all,_

 _After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,_

 _Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me..."_

.

She was making breakfast when Norman came downstairs, freshly showered and in a button up shirt. He stood leaning against the door jam for a moment, watching her bustle about in a cream colored skirt, making breakfast as his heart swelled in his chest. She poured boiling water into a teapot, her motions melodic, like a dance she'd performed over and over. It was easier now, knowing how he felt, knowing that they would be together and he no longer needed to fear. He could appreciate the sweet ache inside now, let it blossom to encompass her, the way it always should have.

"Hey, Norman?"

His eyes lingered on his mother before he became aware of the other people in the room. He looked down and saw Dylan and Emma staring at him from where they were sitting at the kitchen table. "Hi, good morning!" he said cheerfully, coming around to sit in his usual spot. "Emma, what are you doing here so early?"

Emma smiled and looked down, embarrassed about something. "I just, I was bored, and thought I'd come see how you guys were doing."

"It's nice to have you," he said sincerely.

"Breakfast is ready!" his mother said brightly, completely avoiding eye contact with him as she set down two platters piled high with waffles and sausage. "I'll get the strawberries, and then let's eat!"

Norman managed to catch his mother's eye once or twice as they ate, only just making enough small talk to keep things innocuous in the face of his brother and friend. When they were done, Emma and Dylan wandered into the living room, and Norman took up his usual spot to his mother's right as they cleared up the dishes.

She dried the last plate, and Norman took her hand quickly before she could pull away. "We need to talk," he said quietly.

"No." Her voice was harsh, and she tried to pull her hand away from him.

"Mother," he said, his voice unexpectedly commanding. She paused and finally looked him in the eye. "We are going to have a talk. Right now. And I don't care whether it's here, where Dylan and Emma can hear us, or upstairs."

Norma paled. Then, with a refreshingly familiar look of annoyance, she pulled her hand away and stormed passed where Dylan and Emma were sitting on the couch and away from him, stomping up the stairs.

Norman ignored the questioning looks he received as he followed her, swiftly and silently ascending in her wake. He caught the door to her room as she tried to close him out, entering and sealing them inside their dim, perfumed sanctuary. She was standing next to her bed, facing away from him and clutching her own arms.

"It's all right," he said quietly, coming up behind Norma and wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin slotting over her shoulder. "I understand now. This is how we're supposed to be, how we survive."

She shook in his arms, shivering at first, then quaking with quiet sobs. "Norman," she lamented quietly, tears falling on their hands, which were now clasped together in front of them. "Norman, honey... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have..."

"I did it, Mother, not you." He kissed her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. "How could I resist?" She turned in his grasp and took his face in her hands, kissing him with a desperation he understood completely. After a moment, he stopped her. "We're meant to be talking," he said quietly, leading her to the bed.

.

 _And should I then presume?_

 _And how should I begin?_

 _._

They lay close together, holding each other. There wasn't much difference in the way they fit together now; he still curled protectively around her, and she still pulled one of his legs between hers from behind. Yet, it was completely different in its totality; they both allowed themselves to fully feel the contact between their bodies, no mental barriers that kept them safely in their roles.

"Mother," Norman began, nuzzling into her ear and breathing her in, "The black outs..." She tensed in his arms, but his lips found her neck and shoulder, calming her slightly. "They happen when my subconscious perceives that there is a danger to you or a danger of us losing each other."

There was a short silence before she spoke, voice tremulous. "What do you mean, losing each other?" He felt her push back into him for comfort, clearly frightened of what he would say next.

Squeezing her tighter, he took a deep breath and continued. "The night I... The night dad died. You said he was hurting you, I remember him hurting you now, so I did what I had to do to stop him. Shelby, he was threatening to kill all of us, so I tried to get rid of him. And..." Norman paused here, wondering if he could keep the last from her. She thought he was innocent; he wasn't sure she would be able to trust him ever again, and he certainly didn't want to tell her how he had passed the polygraph test. "Miss Watson, she was trying to seduce me. It wouldn't be right. I must have blacked out so I wouldn't remember- wouldn't remember what I did. I mean, so I wouldn't know I had been with another woman, after I had realized how much I needed you. Still need you."

Norma turned onto her back so she could look at him, eyes wide and wet, and her lips slightly parted. "Norman. Don't."

Her voice was nearly inaudible, and he took in her expression. "I've told you before, even though I wasn't aware then of how deep it went. You're everything to me, you always have been, Mom. I don't ever want to be apart from you." He kissed her again, felt her trembling under him. "You don't have to be afraid, I would never hurt you. I love you, Mother, more than anything."

Norman wasn't exactly sure what reaction he'd expected from Norma, but she pulled him down, burying her face in his neck. Norman carefully placed his weight on her, stroking her hair gently.

.

 _I wanted darkness,_

 _I wanted him._

.

His body pushed her into the mattress and Norma suddenly felt safe and secure in a way she never had before. It felt so right and good that she wept. "I don't deserve someone like you," she whispered, staring into his eyes, noses bumping together. "Norman, I think we're both a little confused about what we mean to each other." She wanted to give him a way out, a way that didn't reveal how very much she wanted this, wanted _them._ She was damaged, wrong; her childhood had made her confused, skewed her image of what familial love was, and Norman was paying the price. "I love you so much, I... I want you to be happy." Tears welled up and she closed her eyes.

"I'll only be happy here," he murmured, and then he was kissing her eyelids, lips lightly brushing delicate skin. "I want to be with you forever."

Her heart exploded and the force sent a sob erupting from her mouth. "Norman," she cried, voice catching.

Her son shushed her with soft, careful kisses that quietly turned more passionate. His arm wrapped around her back as he fell slightly to the side again, and as she began to respond, he dropped his hand and pulled her leg up over his hip. Norma groaned as she pushed herself more firmly into him, his hand slipping down the curve of her hip and pulling her closer. Norman leaned back just enough to get a hand between them, unbuttoning the tiny ivory pearls on her dress to reveal her rosy skin between the edges.

He looked into her eyes for a moment before folding back the cloth, exposing one round breast, the pink center visibly tightening as he watched. They both gasped as his palm settled over the warm mound, her whole body melting into him.

There was a loud knock on the door.

They flew apart, Norma clutching her dress closed as Norman turned away from her and hopped out of bed. "Yes?" she called out, clearing her throat.

"You two okay?"

Norma took a deep breath. "Yes, of course, Dylan," she said, concern coloring her tone as she looked desperately at Norman. "We're just talking."

"Okay, well, I'm taking off, and Emma's going to go man the office. You know, so you and Norman can hug it out or whatever."

"Thank you," she called, pulling the blanket up to her chest and turning to Norman with wide, tense eyes. "Tell Emma we'll be down there soon..."

"Okay then."

They listened fearfully for his footsteps receding. A soft mumble indicated that Dylan and Emma were talking, and then the door slammed.

"Norman." She knew her voice was tired as she turned from him and buttoned her dress.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I need some time."

.

 _But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed_  
 _... in short, I was afraid._

 _._

To Be Continued...

.

Quotes taken from:

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"Persephone Speaks" by Danielle Michallen


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

.

 ** _Please let me know if you're enjoying this. Don't forget to review! There are so many people reading this, and so few reviews... Makes a girl's_ _heart hurt... LOL. Thank you to the one guest reviewer,_** Webelongtoeachot. **_I know you're reading on Tumblr now, but I very much appreciate your input on this._**

 ** _Oh, yes, it's more Soul Bates! This chapter is very smutty too, as a warning/promise. I really do try to keep them in character in this, so please let me know if I'm making them OOC, I'd hate for that to happen. Happy reading!_**

 _._

 _"...One man loved the pilgrim soul in you,_

 _And loved the sorrows of your changing face."_

 _._

"You'll do no such thing!"

Norman stood before her, a sheet of paper drooping in his hand, lips pursed together slightly. "I turned eighteen last week, Mother," he said, voice rising, "You can't stop me!"

Covering her face with her hand, Norma dropped down onto the couch, overwhelmed and conflicted. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks now; they were like magnets, circling opposite poles, hoping somehow their compatible sides would meet. Norman was giving her space, never pushing, never complaining. " _I love you,"_ he'd tell her sweetly, fingers lingering on hers, and then he would back away. These new feelings she was aware of were overwhelming her, consuming her every moment, and accompanying them was a hefty amount of self-loathing and guilt.

How could they proceed with their affair? It was considered immoral by most, and it was certainly illegal in the their home country. Assuming she could put aside her guilt, assuming she could accept the feelings she now knew they both had for each other, they could never be public with their relationship. So she waited, she hoped and prayed that they could go back to the way things were, but it wasn't to be.

She loved him more every day.

Despite all that had changed, she still felt the need to stop him from making what she deemed unwise choices, and this certainly met that criteria in her eyes. "Norman, you are not dropping out of high school, and that's final!"

"It's too late, it's already done!" He held the paper out to her, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. "I already took the GED test and passed. I signed the paperwork today. It's over."

"Oh, Norman!" She took the paper, running her free hand through her hair and pulling on the ends. "What about your grades, getting into college?"

"I did this for us, Mother," he said, visibly attempting to keep himself calm. "Now that I'm done with school, I can help out more around the motel, work on my taxidermy and writing. You can go back to school now, like you always wanted."

Scanning the sheet he had handed her, she covered her mouth, trying to make sense of the blurring letters. "You can't just throw away your life for..."

"I'm not throwing it away, I'm starting my life, Mom. With you." The cushion dipped beside her, and his hand cupped her cheek. "Don't you see?"

Norma let herself be turned to face him, and for the first time since they'd almost been caught by Dylan, she allowed herself to fully feel her attraction to Norman. No one had ever done anything like this, giving up everything to be with her, so she could do what she wanted. She leaned in, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips as his hand heated her cheek, heart pounding inside her chest. "Norman?" she whispered.

"Yes, Mother?"

His voice was soft too, and he was so close to her she could feel the little puffs of his breath against her again. She thought about that night so many weeks ago, when he'd unabashedly spread her legs and pleasured her with no shame, when he had pushed her where she'd always wanted to go. "Kiss me," she said, half an order, half a plea.

Norman leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, almost chastely but for the sure caress of his tongue against her lips. Pulling back, he searched her eyes. "Was I moving too fast before?" he asked softly.

"I... Yes, maybe. I don't know!" Shaking her head, Norma laughed at herself. "I'm frightened, I guess."

"Me, too." He pulled her with him, stretching out on the couch and leading her to lean against him. "But not all that much has changed, has it?"

"Everything's changed. I have something else to lose now." Her voice was deceptively quiet as she laid her head on his chest. It was inevitable, this change, no matter how she fought against it, as inevitable as the passage of time, as the fall of the rain. As inescapable as death. "You're my whole world, Norman. I love you."

His long, thin arms tightened around her, and his chest rumbled under her ear. "I love you, too, Mother. Always."

.

 _"There will be time to murder and create,_  
 _And time for all the works and days of hands_  
 _That lift and drop a question on your plate;_  
 _Time for you and time for me..."_

.

Norman managed the hotel during the day while his mother went to school. She was blossoming in a way he'd never seen before, bursting with achievement and excitement. He loved how happy and fulfilled she looked when she finished a new project or came home with a perfect score on her test. How she twirled around the house happily, still going through the motions of making dinner and dusting shelves, but it was different. She was different; bright, shiny, new.

It was quite the role reversal.

When she'd made it home, they would let Emma take over the office and retire to the house where he worked on his latest project- a book. It was a thriller, a murder mystery, and his own newly remembered experiences added a bit of realism to the imagery, which he tried not to dwell on. Norma would have dinner on the table by six o'clock sharp, just like always, but since Dylan had finally moved out, Norman would sweep in as she finished laying out the dishes and give her a kiss.

Things were perfect really, better than Norman ever thought they could be. They were sweet and loving with each other, never lacking in physical affection, though they both held themselves mostly in check when it came to the more intimate side of their romance. Norma still felt guilty, and Norman didn't want to scare her off again.

For now, they were happy.

.

 _"I asked him for it._

 _For the blood, for the rust,_

 _for the sin..."_

 _._

They proceeded with caution down their path, confining kisses and caresses to the safety of their home, moving forward in small steps to where they were comfortable.

The waiting was beginning to tire them both.

Norma hadn't meant for it to turn out this way; there was something about the blue flowered dress she was wearing that seemed to draw Norman in. So she playfully teased and flirted, even before they'd returned to their home, backing off slightly as she received their new customers, at least until they were alone again.

By the time Emma arrived to relieve them for the afternoon, he was fidgety, watching her quietly from the parlor, where he was slowly filing away receipts. As soon as Emma entered, he jumped up and closed the box he was organizing, startling Norma out of her greeting. "Mom and I have something we need to take care of at the house," he said, posture stiff and voice tight. He took her arm and pulled her out of the office.

"Oh!" Norma exclaimed. "Yes, of course! I'll come back and check on you later, Emma, dear!"

Norman's grip tightened on her elbow as he rushed her up the stairs. "Norman, what's-"

"You've been teasing me all day, woman!" he hissed. "I can't take it anymore!"

He urged her up the stairs and into her bedroom, and somehow, a few minutes later, she was on her back in the bed they now shared. Her chest heaved, naked between the edges of the open top of her dress. Her legs were spread, and her skirt was hiked up, her son's hand disappearing between her thighs. His fingers curled and slipped inside her, making her shudder and arch as his lips caressed her neck. "I want you to come now," he murmured in her ear, increasing his pace. "Come for me, Mother..." His use of that word shouldn't make it even better, but somehow it did. She gasped and clutched and shuddered, spinning outward into the universe with a grateful oath as her body shook and clenched around the intrusion.

As she calmed, breath steadying, her legs spread invitingly and her body begged for him. The dominant man who had worked her to her peak and then instantly moved between her thighs was suddenly gone, and replaced with an unsure boy whose hands were frozen on his belt buckle, all wide eyes and trembling limbs. "Is this- I mean, do you- we don't have to, if you don't-"

Norma felt something blossom in her chest at his words. No one had ever cared only for what she wanted, and she felt strangely like crying. Instead, leaning up on her elbow, she ran her fingers soothingly through his hair and then cupped his cheek. "I want to," she said, and he smiled as her hand dropped to his. She helped him as he frantically unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down around his thighs, gently stroking the flushed, hot length that emerged. Then, she guided him into position, and he pushed inside her with a hopeless groan.

She hadn't had anything that size inside of her in months, but though it was overwhelming, it wasn't painful, and she reveled in the sensation. "Norman," she breathed, clutching his arms tightly. It wasn't until she began to wonder why he wasn't moving that she noticed her son shaking over her. "Honey, what is it?" she asked quietly, wrapping him completely in her arms and legs. Her heart sped with concern that they had finally gone too far, that he'd never be able to truly love her again.

His voice was strained and breathless. "I won't last long," he admitted, despairing. "I'm sorry..."

A soothing balm covered her heart, and she peppered his face with kisses. "It's fine," she breathed, squeezing her muscles around him and smiled at his low grunt. He started moving, slowly, with jerking movements. "That's right. That's my good boy," Norma breathed.

Norman had been truthful. He lost himself in a frantic, rough rhythm, biting her neck, and she only held him tighter. Within minutes, he went rigid over her, growling into her skin like a feral beast and pushing into her hard until he was spent. Norma didn't mind; feeling him lose himself inside her filled her with a deep satisfaction she had never known with any other lover. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered happily. "That was amazing."

Norman rolled to the side, and she took the opportunity to completely remove her dress before turning to open his button down shirt. "I'm sorry, Mother," he said again, breathless and ashamed, but so unable to look away from her.

She shushed him, easing his arms out of the sleeves and pulling his pants and briefs all the way off his thin legs. "I already told you, I don't mind," she whispered, crawling under the covers with him. "I love you," she sighed happily, watching the anxiety on his face changing to pure joy. "There'll be many more times for you to prove yourself."

Laughing, her son pulled her into his embrace. "I love you, too," he said against her hair.

The the angle of the sunlight streaming in the window slowly changed as they cuddled and talked. They already knew as much about each other as another person could, but now they confessed their secret fantasies; being "out" together in public, living somewhere they wouldn't need to hide, somewhere no one knew them, where the worst anyone would have to say would be about their age difference.

Norma looked up in surprise when her son mentioned wanting children. "What?" she asked, turning to him in shock. "What do you mean children?"

"I mean kids, Mom," he said, smiling at her expression, "Like, you know, smallish people that you take care of while they grow? I'm fairly sure you have one or two..." His joking tone faded as she turned away from him, curling in on herself. "What did I say?" he asked, mimicking her posture so his body sheltered hers and she would feel secure.

Norma felt tears gathering in her eyes. She should have known this would be temporary, after all. Norman was still a young man, he'd probably move on eventually. She should just enjoy this while she could, and try to move on too, when it was over. "We can't ever have kids together."

.

 _"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come;  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom..."_

.

"Of course we can, you silly woman!" Norman said, smiling. He kissed under her ear and rocked her gently. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Norman!" she said, hiding her face, clearly trying to sound matter of fact and falling miserably. "I'm thirty-nine years old! I can't be having more babies in a few years. We both know that."

"Then we'll start early, or we'll adopt somehow," he asserted.

"Norman..."

"I already know you're the best mother in the world." His voice was soft and sweet as he stroked her flank gently. "Who else would I want helping to raise my own children?"

His mother finally relaxed a bit. "Let me think about it." Her voice was tiny, quiet in a way it never was. She was thinking about something she wanted but didn't think possible.

The image of her with a swollen belly, carrying his child, did something to Norman's insides, made them quiver with unfamiliar yearning. His manhood was responding to the thought too, and he softly cupped her breast, giving her time to stop him if the contact was unwelcome. "Mother," he murmured mischievously, fingers teasing her pert nipple, "I think I might be ready to try to prove myself again..."

Norma shook herself and smiled, eagerly arching her back as she set aside the issue, burying it in her subconscious.

.

To Be Continued

.

Quotes taken from:

"When You Are Old" by William Butler Yeats

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

"Persephone Speaks" by Daniella Michallen

"Sonnet #116" by William Shakespeare

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

.

So, here it is. Chapter five. I don't mind telling you all I've been in a dark place, recently. My father has been handed a cancer diagnosis that is basically a death sentence, and one of the things keeping me afloat as been my fandoms. That being said, I'm sure things are going to be a little more hopeless than I meant for them to be in the next chapters. WARNINGS. Incest, in case anyone is wondering. And BDSM themes are emerging, because I feel like that's canon for Norman at this point.

A big thank you to **Cleo** for the review! I am so glad you're enjoying the story, and I agree, Norman is rushing into things. It's just how he is. And gratitude to **Edifying** as well! Let me reassure you, I already have six more chapters written. I'm trying to write one chapter for each that I post, and I know where this is ending. We just have to get there.

I admit that I fear some won't be happy with where I'm pushing this relationship. I hope you'll stay with me until the end. Please feel free to let me know how you feel; criticism is a wonderful vehicle for growth. Just remember, a happy coaching medium is the positive sandwich: One positive, one negative, one positive. This is true for fanfiction and real life. Let me know what you think!

Okay, here comes the chapter! Happy reading!

.

 _"Her nimble tongue, love's lesser lightning, played_

 _Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed_

 _Swift orders that I should prepare to throw_

 _The all-dissolving thunderbolt below."_

.

Norma happily skipped down the front stairs, adjusting her dress and attempting to look presentable. She smoothed her hair, wobbly legs leading her down the long staircase in front of their home. Despite her reservations regarding certain topics they had covered, she had been more than enthralled with the newly explored physical aspect of their love. It had been easy to lose herself in the excitement and newness of it, especially when her partner had had so much regard for her pleasure; it was something entirely new. For Norman, it seemed to be all he thought of, and she loved him for it.

She knew she was acting like silly fool, prancing about, but she couldn't stop herself, she was so giddy. "Hello, Emma!" she exclaimed brightly, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be so long! I can help you clean up for the night, though."

"I would have called if I needed help, don't worry," Emma said happily, gathering up some papers. "Did you and Norman finish..." As looked at Norma and trailed off, her grin fell. She came around the desk, hand moving towards the older woman's neck. "Oh, Norma, what happened?"

"Nothing! What are you talking about?" She raised her hand to her shoulder and neck, finding a sore spot she hadn't been aware of before.

"That mark! It wasn't there, earlier..."

Norma stilled herself as Emma leaned forward, thoughts rushing back to the feeling of Norman's lips and teeth clamping down as he thrust into her, and blood rushed into her cheeks. "Oh, that's right... I... burned myself with my curling iron just now... I was resetting my hair..."

"What?" Emma's gaze moved from her neck, meeting her eyes. "Why did you need to do that?"

"Oh, you know...Norman and I had an important remodeling project. In the attic. I was covered in dirt, all sweaty. I couldn't come back down here looking like that!" She turned away self-consciously as her hand moved to cover the mark she now knew her son had left on her. It was very strange, feeling both ashamed and proud of the same thing.

Emma held her eyes, a confused, disbelieving, and hurt look on her face as they stared at each other in silence. "That doesn't look like a burn," she said quietly, leaving a pregnant pause. "It looks... it looks like..."

"I said it was burn," Norma said sternly. "I wouldn't lie. Are you calling me a liar, Emma?" The question was point blank, harsh and challenging, icy blue gaze meeting dark chocolate.

The girl was immediately contrite, averting her eyes to the floor. "No- no, Mrs. Bates, of course not. I would never, never-"

Norma nodded, patting the young girl's shoulder. "Of course you wouldn't. We trust each other, Emma. It's forgotten." Norma looked around, eyes lighting on the counter, the boxes, the computer, and finally Emma. "Why don't you head home, sweetie. I can handle this. You go get some rest."

"Are you sure?" Emma looked confused. "I mean, I don't mind..."

"Yeah, Emma, it's not a problem. We'll see you after school tomorrow, huh? All right then..." Norma led her out and waved goodbye cheerily, her face falling as she turned back to the empty office.

Later, as she wandered back up the stairs, a weight settled on Norma's shoulders, a feeling of certainty. Emma clearly suspected something; still, there was no reason for Norman to know. Not yet. It was nothing but groundless conjecture, and the girl was easily manipulated. She would tell him only if he needed to know.

Just as she thought, Norma found Norman in a blue plaid robe, hair still damp, sitting before the desk in his room. The light of his laptop threw his face into relief, profile stark black in the bluish glow. "Mother?" he asked quietly, turning, "You're back?"

"Yes,baby." She moved to him, circling him in her arms and pressing his head to her chest. "How is the book coming?"

"Great!" He smiled up at her euphorically as shadows chased his features, placing a lingering kiss on her breast and running his cheek over the same spot. "Just another chapter and I'll be finished."

"That's wonderful." Stroking his dark hair back, Norma looked down on him with a radiant expression.

"Would you read it for me?" Norman asked, pulling her close against him with a happy sigh. "You have to tell me if it's not any good."

"I promise." Norma pressed her face into his hair with a little sigh of satisfaction. She decided to keep the interaction with Emma to herself. After all, the likelihood that Emma would attach any meaning to the mark she had noticed, especially with reference to Norman, seemed insignificant, and her sweet boy didn't need that to worry about. "I'm so happy, Norman..." she breathed, causing him to shiver.

"Me too, Mother."

.

 _Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies..._

.

Weeks passed after Norman had submitted his manuscript to several publishers. He tried not to think about it, and threw himself into writing another novel, a sequel to the first. His mother, of course, continued to excel her in classwork, and they both tried to ignore the lingering anxiety over what might happen.

Instead, they moved their relationship forward. They had each other wherever they wished inside the house; the kitchen, the stairs, his room, hers; nothing was off limits anymore. They barely remembered to lock all the doors for security, which really was a must with their situation, but they were becoming comfortable.

It seemed at times that he needed her in a gentle, sweet way, but other times he was rough with her; she suspected there was some secret desire he was keeping hidden, but she wasn't sure she knew what it was. Then one day, he was holding her hands over her head as he fucked her, and it slipped out of him, gravelly and low. "I want to hurt you," he growled in her ear. He pulled back, looking down on her in sudden fear, clearly shocked and appalled by what had come out of his own mouth, hold on her wrists loosening.

Norma knew she should be appalled, afraid of his admission, but she wasn't. She arched up against him and moved his hand to her throat, giving up complete control. It filled her with a sense of peace. When his hand squeezed and constricted her windpipe, she climaxed harder than she ever had in her life, and he was close behind her.

Later, neither spoke of what had happened. It was new and frightening, something to be considered before being revisited. They both thought of it often, of course, but the next few days, Norman was at her beck and call, doing anything she wanted or needed. Norman doted on Norma, trying to use this to distract himself from the looming news from the various publishers as well as his own desires.

Norma was so worried for her sweet boy that she completely forgot the end of their conversation that day they first made love, forgot his insistence that they could have anything resembling a normal family, until he brought it up again. "I don't know if if White Pine Bay is a good environment for us to raise our children in," he said nonchalantly as they sat together eating breakfast. "Too much criminal element, I think."

Norma froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth, eyes locking onto his in hurt confusion, lips slowly closing. "What?"

"I know, the last time we talked about leaving, things were different. I didn't want to." Norman took a sip of his orange juice, oblivious. "But now I see it, Mother. I agree, we can't stay here. I'd hate them to get involved with the wrong element."

Norma slowly laid her fork down, adjusting the napkin in her lap and steeling herself. "Norman..." Her voice was quiet. "I told you... We can't have children."

Norman's fork made a clanging noise as it hit the table. "What do you mean? We talked about this, Mother!"

Heart aching, she stood and moved to her son, wrapping him in her arms and pressing his head to her chest. "I know, honey. I know we did..." She kissed him, tears slowly gathering in her eyes. "And I'd... I'd love too. But you're not ready, and when you are- when you are- I won't be able to..."

Norman pulled back far enough to look up into her ice blue eyes, face brightening again. "Of course you will, Mother! Is that all? We can start now, as far as I'm concerned, we don't need to wait."

"No, we- That's not all of it, we just can't-" Her arms tightened around him. "There's risks, Norman, risks for... this sort of thing..."

Feeling frustrated, Norman pulled out of her arms, standing. "The risks are minimal. I've done the research. Our children would have a twenty-five percent chance of having genes that are identical from us, and the many of those would be harmless!"

"We can't take that chance," she nearly yelled, fear translating into anger.

Norman shoved his chair into the table violently and stood beside her, his expression serious and chilling. "Please."

"No, sweetheart," she said, despairing. "You'll have to find someone, someone else to have your children."

He leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. "There is no one but you." His whole body sagged as he pulled away, and he quickly strode from her, up the stairs, and into his room. Norma anguished quietly as she dressed and went to open the office. He hadn't gone into his room alone, hadn't shut her out, since Dylan had left to live at his farm.

Norma didn't have to worry long. Less than an hour later, Norman came through the door, dressed and contrite. "I'm sorry, Mother," he said quietly, rounding the counter to grip her hands tightly. "I know I'm putting a lot of pressure on you. I feel like I've been waiting so long, and I want to rush. We can wait, or... or we can skip children all together. It doesn't matter, as long as we're together."

Norma pulled him toward her, burying her face in his chest for once. "I'm so sorry, Norman," she managed to get out. "I'm just... I'm so scared..."

He stroked her hair until she'd quieted a bit, then knelt before her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "You've been hurt before, I understand that. I won't push you into anything you don't want to do."

"It's not that," she said, voice watery. "It's just... I don't think I can give you what you want... I want you to be happy, Norman."

"Well, that's silly." Norma looked up to see him smiling. He kissed her gently, lingering for a moment longer than was truly safe when they were in public, before he continued. "After all, you are everything I'll ever want."

.

 _"Her voice is low and sweet_

 _And she's all the world to me..."_

.

A few more days went by, and Norma began to relax back into their routine. She walked into the house one day, carrying a bag of groceries with her. It wasn't much; a box of the fancy crackers she liked, some Mediterranean seasoned olives, feta cheese, a couple bottles of Pinot Noir, and a bar of chocolate that Norman favored. She paused as she closed the door, hearing Norman's voice from the kitchen.

"...It's just so exciting! I can't believe it!" During the slight pause, Norma walked forward quietly and came around the corner to face her son, who was on his cell phone and beaming. He took the bag from her even as he held his phone and deposited it on the counter eagerly. "Yes, I'm free Thursday evening." He completely ignored her questioning look, and Norma's curiosity grew stronger. "Sure, I'll meet you there. Okay! Thank you, thank you so much!"

Norma couldn't contain herself any longer as Norman lowered his phone. "What is it Norman, what's happened?"

"Someone wants to publish my book!" he exclaimed, picking her up by the waist with a delighted laugh and spinning her around. "Bailey and Schmidt! They said they'll be here Thursday to discuss the terms of my contract. They want the sequel too!"

"Oh, Norman!" With matching giddiness, she kissed his forehead before he set her down. "That's just wonderful! We should do something to celebrate, go out to dinner."

"But you've already got something from the market," he protested gesturing to the bag.

"No, this is special, and we're going out!" she insisted, "Honey... you're an author now, a real, published author!" She stopped to appreciate the proud expression on his features. "You deserve to be treated to a nice dinner out, something to commemorate this." Norman wavered, looking into her eyes as she stroked his hair. "Please, for me?"

He seemed to steel himself. "Okay, but only if we go out of town."

"Out of town?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, somewhere people don't know us. Where I can hold your hand and kiss you without everyone judging us. Well, not anymore than normal." He pulled her hand down and kissed her fingertips.

The idea wormed it's way into the Norma's brain, and she thought of showing him off, of openly admitting to their love. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, let's do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Excitement bloomed inside her as she smiled brightly, and they raced each other up the stairs to get ready, laughing and kissing easily. By five thirty, they were driving down highway 101, Norma in a dark blue dress, Norman in a matching suit. She happily wound around the coast, singing show tunes as her son used his cell phone to find an appropriate restaurant in Newport; it was about an hour away, and they weren't likely to be found out there.

They would be safe.

.

To Be Continued

.

Quotes taken from:

"The Imperfect Enjoyment" by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester

"Symposium" by Plato

"Annie Laurie" by Mr. Douglas of Finland

.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

.

 ** _Good evening, gentle readers! I'm posting this a little faster than I feel is prudent, but I'm just excited. What can I say? I'm also burying myself in my fandoms recently, which I don't feel like is ENTIRELY unhealthy._**

 ** _OMG, Cleo, thank you again! I've always seen Emma as too observant for her own good, lol. I'm still letting some of psychotic Norman come through in this one, so you're right, he's getting darker. I'm not going to give away anything though. ;) Sandra, I'm so pleased to hear you're enjoying the story. That's all I really want, for people to like what I'm enjoying myself. And thanks to everyone who expressed concern for my father; he's talking to experts now and feeling more optimistic about his prognosis._**

 ** _WARNING TIME. Incest (DUH, if you're this far), and BDSM again. I want to take a moment to say, this is not how you should actually approach BDSM in real life. I'm involved in three BDSM relationships myself, and if you are curious about how to go about it safely, please message me. Do not just start doing things without discussing it first. It's based on communication and safety, so everything should be open and discussed at all times._**

 ** _That's it for now! Please let me know what you think, and have a great day!_**

.

 _"What's to come is still unsure:_  
 _In delay there lies not plenty;_  
 _Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,_  
 _Youth's a stuff will not endure."_

.

They settled on Szabo Steakhouse in Newport, and as they were seated, Norman pulled out Norma's chair for her, pressing a shy kiss to her lips furtively and blushing. It was precious, the way he pushed in her chair and took her hand as he sat, and her love bloomed inside her.

It was a lovely meal; they talked and laughed and enjoyed their food. They were both acting a little strange, a little indiscreet; Norman almost slipped and called her "Mother" twice, but it seemed as if no one had noticed. It felt as though they were getting away with something; a little thrill zinged through them both whenever he kissed her on the lips there in the restaurant.

In fact, everything was perfectly wonderful until Norma went to use the restroom, and the waitress came by with the check. Norman took it from her, smiling happily. "Oh, thank you very much!"

"Just give it to your sugar mama," she said nonchalantly.

Shocked, Norman exclaimed, "Excuse me?" He felt his face heating with embarrassment and anger as he processed her words.

"Hey, no offense meant. It's just pretty obvious-"

"I'm paying for this," Norman said testily. He honestly wasn't sure which was them had been paying for dinner, but he pulled out his wallet, laying down enough cash for the food and a small tip. "And for the record, I am in love with Norma, and she loves me. Not that it's any of your business!"

"I'm so sorry," the woman said, looking mortified. "I didn't mean to upset you!"

"Yeah, well, you did!" Norman grabbed his mother's coat and purse. "We won't be coming back." He stormed out of the dining area, praying Norma would be waiting for him, and he was lucky enough to find her just as she exited the ladies room. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Norman, what-"

"Don't. Just, don't." He still helped her with her coat and took her arm as they left, but he was stiff, not as natural and comfortable as he had been before. Scolding himself for not foreseeing the perception, he opened Norma's door for her before going around to the passenger side.

"Sweetie," Norma said quietly after he'd closed his door, "What is it? What happened?"

"It's nothing... it's..." He took a deep breath as she gripped his hand. "That waitress... She thought I was...pretending, that I was with you for your money."

Norma's lips pursed, but she patted his hand comfortingly. "It's okay, don't worry. I thought this might happen, and it's nothing. It doesn't matter what they think."

"But, Mother-"

"It _doesn't_ matter, Norman. Nothing matters but you and me, and what we mean to each other." Pulling him forward, she kissed his cheek and whispered, "We're together, and that's the most important thing. Right?"

"Of course," he said, shaking slightly as he relaxed. "I'm so sorry, Mother. I just got so angry... I thought I might... But I didn't, did I?"

"That's right, you didn't..." She soothed, holding him. "You're just fine. Let's head home, watch some old movies, and just be together, hm?"

"That sounds wonderful, Mother." He pulled himself away from the comfort of her arms with a great effort and pulled his seat belt into position.

.

 _I could not name her mood, her locked-up faces._

 _Far off she rolled and rolled..._

.

They drove in silence, neither speaking until they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. "I'm so sorry, Norman," she lamented, turning the car off and slumping her shoulders, "I wanted this night to be special for us, but I've just made it horrible."

"No, Mother, I still enjoyed our time. And the night isn't over, like you said." He held her now; it seemed they were always switching roles, at once protector and protected. "Let's go in. You'll feel better inside."

Norman was fast, trying to hold he door for her again; he always wanted to treat his mother like she was special and deserving of attention. As they moved to climb the stairs, though, the door to the office opened behind them. "Hey, Norma!"

They turned and moved apart, Norman looking questioningly at his mother as she took one step away from him. "Hey, Dylan, how are you, honey?"

"Good, good... Just... stopping by to see Emma, and thought I'd say hi." Emma came around to stand beside him, and the blonde man smiled at her adoringly.

Norma smiled too with a knowing look at Norman, who seemed disconcerted. "That's so nice, isn't it nice, Norman?"

"Ye-Yes, it's very nice of you," he said automatically. Then he seemed to shake himself and acclimate to the idea that his brother might be interested in his friend. "You should come over more often, I'm sure Emma gets lonely down here while Mother and I work at the house."

"Maybe I will," Dylan said with a grateful glance.

"Hey," Emma said suddenly, "Why are you guys all dressed up? I knew you were going out, but is it a special occasion?"

Now, Norma smiled brightly, moving back towards Norman and grabbing his arm excitedly. She shone with pride for her son. "Oh, we were out celebrating! Norman's first book is going to be published!"

"Oh my gosh, Norman, that's wonderful!" Emma rushed forward and looped her arms around his neck. "So exciting! Congratulations!"

Dylan laughed. "Wow, that's awesome!"

"Thanks," Norman said quietly, hugging Emma back. "I'm just... very grateful someone liked it."

"Well, Norman and I were heading in, we're a little tired." Norma took her younger son's hand and pulled him behind her. "We'll see you two tomorrow?"

"Sure thing, Norma," Dylan replied, waving. "Have a good night."

As they walked up the stairs, Norma squeezed his hand a little, leaning toward him. "Is that all right with you?" she whispered hesitantly.

"What? Dylan and Emma?" He smiled, squeezing back. "Yeah, I think it's great! Why would I care?"

"Well, I mean, she was _interested_ in you at one point, and... well..."

Norman glanced over and saw she had her eyes averted, a telltale sign that she was uncomfortable. Norman decided to chance and little more physical contact and pulled her against him as they walked, arm wrapping around her waist and sealing their sides together. "Why would I want her when I have you?" he whispered.

She smiled and looked back at him finally, laying her hand and arm over his where it was wrapped around her side. "Are you sure?"

"I'll show you how sure I am once we're inside," he breathed, voice full of promise.

Norma shivered, leaning her head against Norman's shoulder. As he unlocked the door, she looked down the stairs and saw Emma and Dylan standing close together, talking in whispers. Emma glanced up and saw her watching, then turned away quickly. A nagging worry tickled the back of Norma's subconscious, but as Norman pulled her inside, she decided to ignore it.

.

 _"I want to pull you to the floor to make love_

 _among the ticket stubs, the bobby pins,_

 _the evidence of living."_

 _._

Norman shut the inner door forcefully and immediately turned back, pushing Norma up against the wall. "Mother..." he whispered into her skin, his hand settling on her neck as it had a many days ago. He pushed her left strap down, biting into the soft flesh of her shoulder.

"Norman," she moaned after a gasp, holding him close. She breathed him in, an inner need taking hold of her as he detached from her and looked into her with darkening eyes full of some need, his fingers flexing with slight pressure on her throat. Something twisted rose inside her as she looked into the innocent face of her youngest child. "Norman, sweetheart. I want you to do what you said you wanted. I want you to hurt me, really hurt me." Her voice was quiet but sure, a command hidden inside it. It was easy to give herself over; she trusted him, for good or ill.

A low growl left his throat, and he pulled her away from the wall, compelling her into the living room off the foyer. He swept all the sweet pictures of them, all the memories of him as a child to the floor, the frames cracking. Glass shattered across the rug, and Norma yelped in surprise, backing away. "What's the matter?" Norman said, voice slightly mocking. "I thought you wanted this. That you weren't afraid."

She met his eyes as his hand sealed around her wrist in an iron grip. They were dark, fathomless; he was very near the edge of a black out. "I'm not afraid of you." Even as she said it, she wondered if it was true.

The corners of his mouth turned up cruelly. "You shouldn't lie, Mother." The words were low and dangerous. "You'll have to be punished."

His hand jerked her forward, and he bent her over the now empty end table. her blond hair hanging over the couch. "Norman-" The navy skirt she was wearing was suddenly flipped up, her black lace panties pulled down around her knees. She shivered. "I'm not-" His hand connected suddenly with her backside, leaving a bright red hand print, and she cried out in surprise.

"So beautiful," he murmured, fingers gently caressing the sensitive red skin and making her squirm. "I want to leave more of my marks on you, so you'll remember who you belong to. Would you like me to do that, Mother?" He connected harder this time, leaving small broken capillaries on her skin.

"Yes, Norman," she squealed, gripping the upholstery of the sofa tightly and steeling herself.

His hand connected with her pale, rounded flesh a few more times, harder and harder again, while she squirmed and sobbed. She was sure there would be bruises on her by the time he was done, and the thought filled her with a strange sense of longing.

Then she heard his zipper, felt his hands on her hips, and he was pushing inside her dripping entrance. How had she gotten so wet just from her son spanking her? "Yes," she groaned, biting down against the feeling of fullness. Her body contracted, trying to keep him inside her as he pulled out and pushed back in. "Please, sweetie, more," she whimpered, pushing herself back to increase the sensations, and his speed increased accordingly as his hand connected again, the sting almost unbearable.

"Mother," he breathed as she mewled, air rushing in and out of his lungs. His hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back.

The tension on her scalp burned, and Norma whimpered, clenching her eyes shut against the power of what was happening. "Harder, Norman," she pleaded, moaning as his thrusts became so vigorous that the table and couch starting to inch forward under the pressure.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, the words grating against her ears.

"Yes, yes..." She whined against the sensation of his length battering her, hips slapping audibly.

His grip on her hair slackened, and she felt him bend to kiss her back as he continued pumping in and out. He was quite suddenly the sweet boy she had raised, tenor changing. "Mother..." She recognized that tone now, the desperate sound he made when he was about to come. "Oh, God... Mother..."

"What the _fuck_ is this?!"

Mother and son both froze and whipped their heads around to see Dylan standing just inside the open front door, face pale and slack. They'd forgotten to lock up again...

Norman moved away from his mother swiftly, a string of fluid briefly hanging stretched between his member and her entrance. Norma felt him pull her dress back down as she stood, so she'd be protected, before he turned away and straightened his own clothing to conceal his nudity.

"Dylan, she said, pulling her underwear back into place as panic began to set in. "This isn't what it looks like-"

"It's not- What else could it possibly be?" he shouted. "I don't- This is _disgusting._ I heard a crash, and I thought... Holy shit. _"_ His hand rubbed his face, his eyes, like he was trying to dislodge the image of his brother and mother in such a compromising position.

"Dylan..." Norma's voice was full of despair, trembling as she stepped forward and tried to take his hand, but he pulled away before she could reach him. "Please, it's not like that."

"Not like what?" he asked harshly. "Not like you're having sex with your son? What the fuck, Norma!" He laughed cruelly and rubbed his hand down his face, covering it for a moment. "How could you do this? After what he did to you... After what Caleb did to you?"

"You don't have the right to talk to me about that." Norma's voice was cold; she was shocked and hurt that Dylan would bring her brother into it.

Norman stepped forward, moving so Norma was partway behind him. "It's not just sex," he yelled angrily, fists clenched. "We're in love! We're going to stay together forever!"

"Can't you see how messed up that is? She's completely destroyed you, Norman!" Dylan yelled, looking away from them. "I can't... I just can't... How long has this...?"

"Why do you care?" Norma asked defensively. She gripped Norman's hand for support, and he squeezed her fingers tightly.

Dylan glanced at their clasped hands, lips clenched tight. "Emma said something was going on between you," he said quietly. "I told her that was crazy, that you'd just always been close physically, that it wasn't... Shit... I have to go."

"Fine, get out!" Norma cried, gesturing to the door. "Get out of my house, and don't come back!" She let out a scream after he had slammed it shut and fell to the floor. Norman sank beside her, holding her close as she wept.

.

To Be Continued

Quotes taken from:

"Twelfth Night" by William Shakespeare

"The Consecrating Mother" by Anne Sexton

"After We Break Into My Apartment Because I Lost My Keys" by Sierra DeMulder


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

.

Here it is, my lovelies! I know things are taking a turn for the weird in here, but again, this is supposed to be a happy-ending kind of fic, so please bear with me. I promise there will be more gore and sex coming up, LOL.

To the reviewers: The **"guest"** reviewer, thank you SO VERY MUCH! I really appreciate your compliment, and I am SO PLEASED my writing brought a gasp out of you, LOL. **ALittleTasteOfMadness** , I really hope you finish your own fic! I like writing and reading my own of course, but it's so much different to read someone else's. I'd love to see it. :) And thank you for your kind offer, I may take you up on it. And, oh, **Sandra** , I'm _so_ sorry I made you cry! I'd love to give you hugs and comfort you. Trust me, everything will be okay.

This is a little shorter than most of my chapters, but I liked the stopping point and adding more felt cumbersome. I hope you all can read this chapter and trust me to make it work. Here we go!

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"My love is as a fever, longing still_  
 _For that which longer nurseth the disease,_  
 _Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,_  
 _Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please."_

 _._

That night, Norma curled away from him, all hard angles and stiff limbs. Norman tried his best not to take it personally; after all, it wasn't her fault that his stupid older brother had come barging in and made their love seem a vile travesty upon humanity. He stroked her gently, whispering his adoration to her, and they slowly fell asleep in the wee hours of morning.

He woke to her relaxed and content in his arms, as she always should have been.

"It will be all right, Mother," he said quietly as her eyelids fluttered. "Dylan will come around. And we have each other. We're together, and that's all that matters. Remember?"

Norma smiled sadly, cupping his cheek. "For now."

"What do you mean?" he asked, pulling her closer.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she traced his lips with her thumb. "This is... It's literally against the law, Norman. No matter where we go in this country, we'll be at risk of being arrested and kept apart if people know."

"That doesn't matter." He grabbed her hand and kissed it before burying his face in her hair. "There are other places. Spain, France, Sweden, the Netherlands... We could go there and be safe."

"Oh, Norman," she lamented, her heart tearing open. "How can we go? What would we do?"

"I've got my earnings from my book," he said quietly. "Tom was talking ten percent of all copies sold."

Looking at the happy, hopeful expression on her son's face, Norma couldn't bring herself to say what she knew; publishing was uncertain, they might make nothing on his writing, or next to nothing, and then where would they be? "Of course, honey. But it's a big undertaking, that's all."

Norman kissed her lightly and moved back, rising from the bed. "I'll make breakfast today. You just relax. Have a bubble bath, lounge around. Let me handle things for a while."

"Okay," she answered softly, snuggling back under the covers. "I love you, sweetie."

"I love you, too, Mom," he said brightly, closing the door behind him as he left.

She waited until he had time to descend the stairs before she pulled over the little wastebasket nearby and heaved into it, despite her stomach's near lack of content.

.

 _I love thee as I love the tone_  
 _Of some soft-breathing flute_  
 _Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,_  
 _When all beside is mute._

.

It was easy to watch him from the entrance to the kitchen, wearing her apron and humming to himself. Still, the smell of the bacon and eggs cooking sent her stomach into knots. "Good morning," she said unnecessarily, striding forward to take his arm.

"Good morning," he echoed happily, embracing her briefly. "Breakfast is almost ready."

She let him handle everything, watching him with haunted eyes as he turned to the frying pan. How could she give him up? But she should, shouldn't she? He was her precious baby bird, fragile and easily broken. She might break him by accident at any moment, and the thought killed her inside.

Moving up behind him in a mimicry of what he had done to her so often, she circled his waist and reached under the apron he was wearing to begin unbuttoning his pants. "What- Mother, what are you-?" He turned toward her, frozen as she pulled down his trousers and underpants, lifting the apron to expose his half-hard cock. He collapsed against the kitchen counter as she dropped to her knees. "I don't- The bacon, it's- Uuuuunnnngh..."

He was slightly soft in her mouth for only a moment before his body responded, shaft hardening deliciously between her lips. His fingers clenched in her hair and guided her motions over him.

She only ate a tiny bit of the burned bacon, but it was the best she ever tasted.

.

 _I'm a riddle in nine syllables,_  
 _An elephant, a ponderous house,_  
 _A melon strolling on two tendrils..._  
.

She wasn't some stupid, green girl.

Norma knew what it meant that she couldn't go the last few days without being sick, without feeling fatigued; that her breasts were swollen and sore. The memory of the last time was all too clear. She looked down at the tiny bulge on her stomach, her hand resting over it. She was unsure of what to do.

Only once, that first time... It wasn't planned, she hadn't prepared, and she hadn't gone to get the pills until the next day. Once was enough, that's what they'd always said.

Now she knew it was true.

She came home from school that cold day in October, scared and determined. He'd been the one pressing for this, after all. A tiny white plastic stick had confirmed her suspicion, and she couldn't keep it from him no matter how frightened she might be.

Norman was in the office parlor, working on his writing since there wasn't anyone to check in or out. It struck a chord in her, seeing him hunching over his laptop with determination. The meeting with the publisher had gone well, and he was eagerly working on the sequel to his novel. Steeling herself, she closed the door and walked to him.

"Mother!" he said happily, his arms opening. She nearly fell into them, holding onto him as doubt assailed her. "Mother, what is it? What's wrong?"

She sat on the small sofa next to him, taking a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong, unless you think it is," she began, taking his hand. "Did you mean what you said before? That we could move to Europe and be together?"

"Of course." His face took on an earnest look, and he clasped her hands. "What is it? What's happened? Did someone... Did Dylan or Emma tell someone?"

 _"_ No, honey, no," she reassured him, running her fingers through his hair comfortingly. "It's... I'm..." She shuddered, digging deep inside to find the courage to continue. "It's just that- We'll have to find somewhere to go soon, because... I'm pregnant."

She watched him carefully, but his face quickly shifted from shock to bliss. "Really?" he entreated her.

"You're not upset?" she asked, her voice small. Visions of her previous husband's reactions to her news flew through her head; John Massett's grim anger and Sam Bates' violent outburst that left her with bruises for weeks. She hated herself for shrinking back as her son moved closer to her. Only after her automatically protective gesture of wrapping her arms around her stomach did she realize he'd only been trying to embrace her.

Norman's face fell as he processed her reactions. "I won't hurt you, Mom. Never like that, never when you don't want it." He paused taking in her look of anguish. "Is that what they did?" he asked softly, pulling her to him.

"Yes... Mostly your father," she admitted haltingly, allowing him to shelter her with his lanky frame. Her brain swam in a confusing swirl of memory, hope, and discord; that she was having a child with a child she'd already borne was causing no small amount of disbelief inside her. "I thought I'd lose you," she remembered, burying her face in his neck. "I... I bled the whole time, and I cried every day, thinking my baby was dying inside me. But eventually you came out... You were early, but so perfect. You still are." She stroked his cheek, remembering the day with a twinge of guilt and hope. "You're my miracle."

They held each other on the couch, Norman's tears slowly joining her's as they both processed what was happening, and as he accepted what had happened to her. Her son's large hand dropped to cover the new, barely visible roundness of her stomach, fingers splaying over it possessively. "I love you so much, Mother," he breathed into her. "I'd never do anything like that to you or our child, ever."

"Norman," she sighed back, covering his hand with her own. He leaned over her to kiss her gently, forgetting the time and place until they heard the door open.

Emma stopped short, seeing the intimate position they were in. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'll just come back in a few minutes..."

"Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry," Norma lamented. "I never meant for you to see-"

"Emma, wait," Norman cut off his mother, facing her as she turned back. "You already know what's going on between us," he said carefully. "You suspected before, and now it's been confirmed. Can we trust you to keep the secret, to help us?"

Looking slightly uncomfortable, the girl scratched her arm. "I mean... I only told Dylan. I thought he knew already... So, yeah, you can trust me."

Mother and son exchanged a look of understanding, and Norma pulled Norman back against her, pressing his hand over her stomach again with a bittersweet smile. "Well, then, you should be the first to know." Norman flushed next to her, shyly averting his eyes. "We're expecting."

.

To Be Continued...

.

Quotes taken from:

"Sonnet 147" by William Shakespeare

"I Love Thee" by Eliza Acton

"Metaphors" by Sylvia Plath

.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

.

Good evening, friends! I'm thinking we're on the backend of this fic at this point; there's still several chapters left, but less coming than there have been already. That being said, I have a new Soul Bates I'm already working on that I'll be posting soon after, so more Norman x Norma loveliness coming.

I haven't gotten feedback from a lot of people this time, but holy crap, the intense private messaging going on between me and **ALittleTasteOfMadness** has been awesome! She is fabulous and so encouraging, and she got a sneak peek at the first chapter of my next fic after she agreed to continue her own. ;) Bribery! LOL. Keep being awesome, girl!

WARNINGS: More mentions of BDSM and pregnancy. Things will be weaving in and out of cannon for a bit. I just want to be clear that there will be SOME spoilers from the third season, and possibly already have been, so be prepared, and hopefully you'll like this new chapter. Don't forget to review! It makes for a happy little Vema!

.

 _"The ocean steamed in and out,_  
 _the ocean gasped upon the shore_  
 _but I could not define her..."_

.

"I know some French," Norma said quietly as they lay in bed, and Norman jolted, coming more awake.

"How much?" he mumbled sleepily, his hand coming forward to cup the ever growing roundness of his mother's stomach as he kissed her shoulder. It was obvious now, and some of the people in town had started to talk, to wonder who the father was; Norma and Norman both were quick to dismiss the question as inappropriate. They'd begun saving up money, but even with the few thousand dollars Norman had been paid for his book so far, they were short of what they needed for a move.

"More than I do Swedish or Spanish," she said quietly. "I took it all four years in high school. Comment tardive ne le bus de fonctionner?"

Norman laughed quietly. "What does that mean?"

"How late does the bus run."

Norman snuggled closer, kissing her ear. "How did you make that sound so sexy?"

Turning in his arms, Norma wrapped herself around him. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," she said thickly, pressing her lips into his skin. "I can never give you up."

"You'll never have to," he promised her quickly. "You'll never have to, Mom, I promise you won't."

Holding onto him, she struggled to find words. "Once we leave, we can never come back." She voiced her fear finally, waiting for him to refute it, to insist she was being silly.

"I know." He didn't seem scared, or sad. He rolled her onto her back, hovering over her with a determined look. "I don't care where we are, as long as we're together."

His kiss turned slowly from reassuring to intense, and he moved so she was on top. When she asked about it, he said he was worried he'd hurt the baby, which made Norma laugh.

Five months, she thought as she pulled his pajama pants down and rose over him. Five months to divine some sort of plan. She gripped his length gently and sank down onto him as they echoed each other's moans of contentment. She rode him, watching his eyes darkening as she moved, until his hands felt the shape of her expanded tummy with reverence. "That's my baby inside you, Mother," he breathed, something like disbelief in his eyes.

She looked down on him with adoration and pulled one hand up to kiss his knuckles. "Yes, Norman, it is..."

.  
 _"...Words could bring, the face that I_  
 _no longer knew or loved . . ._  
 _Well, it is over now, it is over..."_  
.

The sun was low as Norma drove out to Dylan's farm; she'd come straight after school, simply texting Norman that she was running late so he wouldn't worry. She needed to talk to Dylan, needed to make him see. There was so little time left to have him close, and she regretted her hasty words the night they'd fought. Things between them had only just begun to heal, and she had to see that through.

Her oldest son came rushing out of the farmhouse as she pulled up, blond hair flashing in the sharp winter light. "Dylan," she said, her voice pleading as she exited the vehicle and moved to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry about what I said."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around in agitation, glancing at the door to his cabin.

"I just, I want us to be okay again," she said sadly, reaching for him. "I love you so much. I know what you saw was a shock, but Norman and I still..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed he was now staring at her bulging midsection, which she hadn't been trying to minimize.

"Apparently there are a lot of shocks to go around," he whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

"I thought Emma would have told you," she whispered, folding her hands around her, "Or that you'd heard in town. It's quite the topic of gossip."

Dylan laughed. "I don't talk to Emma as much, or get the local rumors, now that I'm not coming to the motel anymore."

She suddenly went from entreating to stern, changing her stance so she was leaning toward him. "Dylan," she said solemnly. "That girl likes you, and she very sweet and caring. She's perfect for you. You can't just stop talking to her!"

"Seriously? You're giving me romantic advice?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds before they both started laughing, the tension finally breaking. They moved forward at once, embracing heartily. "I miss you, Dylan. I love you so much, and with the baby coming, I don't know how long Norman and I can stay. We're talking about moving to Europe."

"Didn't I talk you out of fleeing the country once already?" He pulled away to look at her. "It's just... I need some time, Norma. You've gotta understand that. I want to be there for you, but..."

"Yes, of course. I had to adjust to it too. After Norman..." She trailed off as the door to the cabin opened, and an all too familiar figured exited. Staggering back, her eyes locked her brother with horror.

Caleb froze, staring at her in stunned disbelief before rushing towards them. "Norma!" he said earnestly as she backed away. "Norma Louise, wait, please, I just need to say something-"

With an accusing look at Dylan, Norma swung her car door open and rushed to be inside the protection of her vehicle. "How could you do this to me?" she hissed before closing the door and shifting into reverse. She barely avoided hitting Caleb with her bumper, and she never heard Dylan's desperate apologies.

.

 _They are a great puzzle_  
 _that I am slowly piecing together._  
 _The picture of who I am_  
 _becomes clearer with each piece..._

.

By the time she had pulled into the driveway, Norma's eyes were streaming tears and she was gasping, hanging on the edge of a panic attack. Images of huddling with Caleb in the attic, in the closet, under the porch were mixing with memories of violation against the bathroom counter and in her own bed. She hadn't been prepared to be confronted with her brother, and her defensive signals and hormones were buzzing and whirring inside her, telling her to hide, to fight, or to run...

Running usually won out.

Norman came out of the office with a delighted grin until he saw the state she was in and rushed to her side. "Mother, what is it, what's happened?" he asked nervously, moving to support her as she collapsed to the ground. "Is it the baby?"

"No, no," she cried. "Nothing like that. It's... Caleb, he's here! I saw him!"

Emma had come outside to see what was wrong, and she approached quickly. "Come on, let's get her into the office at least, out of the cold."

As the girl tried to help her up, Norma shrugged her off, clinging to her youngest son. "No, please, Norman- Just take me home."

"Yes, Mother." He threw his arm around her waist and supported her as they climbed the stairs. "Can you watch the motel for us?"

"Yeah, sure." The girl was clearly shaken, but she dutifully went back into the office.

Once Norma was in the house, and the doors were locked, she seemed to calm down. "Norman, I'm so sorry. I just panicked, and I was so scared and alone. I didn't know what to do!" She leaned heavily on him as he unbuttoned her coat, grateful for his solid support.

"It's okay, let's just get you comfortable. You need to lay down, the stress might be effecting you and the baby both."

"Will you come with me?" she asked, her voice tiny and vulnerable.

"Always."

Once he had her settled in the bed, Norman lay beside her, gently stroking her side. "Now, what do you mean? Where did you see your brother?"

Shuddering, Norma recalled verbally how she had wanted to speak with Dylan, reconnect before they left. Norman's lips pursed in displeasure as she told him the events that unfolded at the farm, but Norma didn't see it since he was spooning her. "I didn't exactly wait around for an explanation," she finished, beginning to truly become more herself. "I just left. I can't believe Dylan would do this to me!" Pausing, she waited for Norman to respond, but when he didn't she began to worry. "Norman?" she asked, turning to see him.

His brows were furrowed, pupils widened until only a tiny ring of blue was visible at the edges, seeming to focus on the corner of the room. Her heart dropped into her stomach. "Norman," she called sternly. "I am completely fine. Do you hear me? No one is keeping us apart."

"Caleb is going to try to rape you again, to take you away from me," he droned, "I can't let him do that..."

"Norman, you listen to me right now!" She was starting to panic again, rising to her knees to hold him down as he tried to get up. "I am in no danger! None! We're here, and we're safe, and you need to-" She felt a twinge in her stomach and winced, crying out.

That instantly brought Norman back to himself, and he shook his head. "Mom, what - what is it? Lay down, you're too excited!"

She couldn't help but do what he asked, falling down to her side with a little laugh and pressing the heel of her hand into her abdomen, down near her pelvis. "It's nothing, Norman. The baby is kicking in a bad spot, that's all. Here..." Pleased that he had come back into the moment, she attempted to keep him there by grabbing his hand and placing it over the spot she could feel movement. His face went slack, hand pressing down lightly with wonder in his eyes.

"He's moving," Norman whispered, nearly paralyzed.

"Yes." Her mood swung abruptly the other direction, seeing the look of awe and amazement on his features. "That's your son," she said quietly, not wanting to disturb him. "You were about as active at this stage, always moving and trying to feel your way around." Norman smirked slightly at her wording, and she shook her head. "Not like that. I thought it meant something wasn't right, that maybe that was causing the bleeding, or the bleeding was causing the agitation. But I was wrong." She took his hand and pressed it tighter into her. "It means he's strong, Norman. It means he's like you."

Norman looked into her eyes, the uneven pounding of his son's kicks still under his palm. "Maybe he shouldn't be like me."

"Don't say that." She immediately held his face in her hands, looking into his teary eyes. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I would love for our child to be like you."

"Whatever you say," he said dutifully.

"Don't, Norman. I mean it."

"I know." The movement stopped, and he shifted to lay next to her. "I'm sorry I was upset, Mother. I just hate to think you're hurting, and I always want to do something about it."

"Oh, honey." She clutched him close, nuzzling his neck. "I'll be fine. I just overreacted." She sighed as he settled halfway beside her, his lips kissing her neck slowly. It was comforting at first, but then the kisses took on a more serious quality. "Norman?"

"I'm sorry... I just want you, Mom," he moved away, shame on his face. "I'm sorry... You're so beautiful. The timing's bad, but..."

A shiver trailed through Norma's body; she felt vulnerable and desired, and she leaned forward to kiss him. Her mind was running a thousand directions, but unexpectedly she thought of that night when he'd used his hands to leave marks on her. She thought of how it made her feel, even when it had ended so badly; how she felt owned by him alone, but that wasn't all. There had been that feeling of ecstatic release, of giving over her being to someone else. It wasn't something she'd ever felt comfortable with, and he had given her that.

At first, she was too scared to say anything, worried the memories of the confrontation with Dylan would override any pleasure to be had. The thrill... the thrill was on her mind, the feeling of the pain and pleasure melding together, and she wondered if expressing the dynamic had helped him in some way too, helped satisfy the violence inside him. "Norman," she said quietly, "Take off your belt."

He did as she asked, but started to discard it until she grabbed his wrist. "What?" he asked, confused.

Her gaze fell to his lips, somehow feeling too shy to meet his eyes. "Use it on me."

Silence fell for a moment.. "Is that safe?" He didn't discard it out of hand.

She could tell he was literally asking, a kind of dark eagerness behind the question. "You'll have to be careful," she said quietly. "I'll tell you if it's too much. I promise."

A strange look came over his features, and his hold on her wrist tightened. He was fighting a battle inside himself. "Turn over."

Norma did as she was told.

.

To Be Continued

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"The Consecrating Mother" by Anne Sexton

"The Whipping" by Robert Hayden

"These Are My Pieces" by Heather Cutler-Young


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

.

Well, here we are. A dark chapter for a dark time. My father has been admitted to the hospital again. He has many blood clots, is having a terrible reaction to his pain meds, and finally I found out just a while ago that he has an internal infection from the exploratory surgery. I ask for prayers and good thoughts to help him through, if you can spare them.

On a happier note, I'm pleased to have gotten a few reviews, this time. **ALittleTasteOfMadnes** s, I'm so glad you're still loving the story! I really hope this one floats your boat. Let me know. ;) And **Cleo** , I was worried you'd abandoned The Love Song! I'm so happy to have you back! HAHA, you're right, poor Dylan! But it was an interesting scene to write. I hope you like this chapter too.

I want to say before this chapter that I actually really love the way Norma and Caleb came back together in the third season. I'm sure it was extremely healing and lovely for both of them.

But that doesn't work for this fic.

On that note, I love that everyone is reading, and I hope this is to your liking. PLEASE REVIEW. I love reviews...

.

 _"Did you want to see me broken?_  
 _Bowed head and lowered eyes?"_  
.

Norma stepped out of the shower, opening the window slightly to let the steam escape. She wiped the mirror clear in the middle, and twisted and turned, proudly regarding the roundness of her stomach and the red stripes across her backside that Norman had given her. It made her feel stronger in a strange way, that she gave up her own power to only one person. She gently touched the abrasions, goosebumps rising from the raw sensitivity of the skin.

There was a light knock on the door, then it cracked. "Mom? Are you all right?"

"Yes, Norman." She dropped the towel onto the rack next to the sink as the door creaked open.

She heard a gasp as she turned and found Norman staring at her, eyes flickering from her marred skin to her stomach to her eyes. "Mother," he said, voice halting as he reached out for her. "Was I too hard on you?"

"No, baby." Pressing her body into him and looking up into his eyes, she pulled his hands around to where he'd marked her. Feeling his skin pressed into hers was still exciting and new, and she took every opportunity. Watching his face soften, she gently kissed his chin and then his mouth. "I really enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

"Yes, but... should I?" His lips softly brushed hers as he spoke, the steam leaving beads of moisture on their skin as he squeezed her closer. She watched his eyebrows furrowing, but stayed silent, wanting him to continue. "I just... I love you so much. Why do I want to do this to you?"

"I don't know, honey. I don't. Why do I want it?" she asked, hoping he'd feel better if he knew she didn't understand it fully either.

"Do you?" he asked doubtfully, innocence and concern coming through in his voice. "You're not just doing it because... you think you have to?"

"Oh, good Lord, Norman! Look at this!" Exasperated, she pulled away and turned from him. The purple lashes stood out brightly on her fair skin, raised and hot to the touch, and she looked over her shoulder, watching him . Voice softer, she continued, "Do you really think I'd have been still while you were giving me these if I didn't want it?"

"It's just strange," he said quietly, pulling her against him again. "I hate to think of you being hurt, of anyone harming you in anyway. So why do I want to myself? I think about it... all the time, how I could... Mom..." He buried his face in her shoulder, and she held him as he shook against her. "I just don't understand!"

"We don't have to understand it," Norma said quietly, stroking his hair to calm him. "If I ever want you to stop, if I'm ever uncomfortable, I'll tell you, and you'll tell me the same. Okay?" He slowly relaxed against her, letting her soothing motions lull him. He gently kissed her shoulder, fingers skimming the raised and raw skin on her, and she shivered. "That's right, sweetie. I love feeling your hands on me..."

"All right, Mother," he said quietly. "I trust you."

.

 _"...You've learned to fear_  
 _The gloomy, stricken places in my soul,_  
 _And the occasional ghosts that haunt my gaze."_

.

They had gone to bed together, but Norma woke in the darkness, finding Norman sitting on the edge of the mattress, his back to her. "Norman?" she asked quietly, turning the bedside lamp on. "What is it?"

"I'm so sorry, Mother." His voice was soft, shoulders hunched. He was dressed as though it was morning and he was getting ready to open the motel office. "I didn't mean to do it."

"You didn't mean to do what, Norman?" she asked, sitting up as her heart sped. She came to sit next to him, dismayed but not surprised to see that his sleeves and shirt were soaked in dark crimson. "Oh my God... Oh my God..." she repeated over and over, keening quietly as she dropped to her knees in front of him, clutching his arms and looking into his panicky face. "Who's blood is this?"

He rocked back and forth slightly, not meeting her eyes. "I just wanted to tell him to leave us alone."

Norma's face contorted and she collapsed, laying her head in her son's lap and wailing. "No, no, no..."

Norman sank down to his knees and they held each other, Norma quietly weeping into his chest. "I told Caleb... I told him you didn't want to see him anymore, that it was bad for you and the baby," Norman whispered. "He got angry. He said you didn't belong to me, that it wasn't my decision. It all got out of hand. I didn't mean for it to happen, Mother, I swear, he attacked me!"

"It's okay, it'll be okay," she chanted. She was beginning to come to terms with it already; as always, Norman was the most important thing in her life, and she would do what had to be done. "We'll handle it, Norman. Together. Where is... where's the body?"

Norman sighed shakily. "He's in the car. I didn't know what to do. Dylan didn't see, he wasn't there..."

A choked sob escaped her. "Okay. Okay. Change your clothes. We'll deal with it."

Beginning to unbutton his shirt, he finally met her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mother. You believe me, don't you? That I didn't go there, planning this?" His eyes were wide with fear. "You don't hate me?"

A wound became visible on his chest as he removed his clothing, and she knew what he had said was true. It was several moments before Norma replied, her face a mask of devastation as she touched the inches long gash that had stopped bleeding alread. "No, Norman. I could never hate you."

,

 _"From the same source I have not taken_  
 _My sorrow; I could not awaken_  
 _My heart to joy at the same tone;_  
 _And all I loved, I loved alone."_  
.

They sneaked back to Dylan's farm, and quickly doused every bit of the area where the confrontation had happened in bleach. They also quickly wiped down the door, which had a few spatters on it. They had to move quickly; Dylan couldn't know they had been there. Norma felt sick inside; her brother was dead, and her sons would both suffer for it in their own ways. If Dylan ever found out, it would ruin things between all of them. She might be planning to leave the country with Norman, but she didn't want to completely lose her newly found connection with Dylan either.

Norman was so shaken, so remorseful, and he remembered the whole thing, so it hadn't been what she'd feared. Not exactly . He kept apologizing as they drove, as they dragged Caleb's body out of the trunk and into the deep forest to find a clearing. Norman was the one sobbing on the ground as Norma piled her son's blood-soaked clothing on top of her dead brother and soaked the lot in gasoline.

She forgave him before she had even lit the match.

They sat crying together and watching the blaze. She hadn't liked Caleb; she'd been afraid of him, but some part of her had still loved him. Their relationship was complicated, but she was still distressed by his death, something she had hoped to prevent when she had stopped Norman from dissociating earlier in the evening. In the end, she hadn't saved either of them, and she felt like a failure.

"We should go," she croaked finally, as the blaze lessened. "The light might attract someone."

"Yes, Mother." He stood and helped her up, letting her lean on him as they walked back to the car. "I'm just... I'm so sorry..."

"Norman!" she hissed, standing straight and turning to him. "I know you're sorry, okay? I know! You've said it a hundred times, now stop it!" He looked down, clearly struggling to do as she asked, and she grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely. "He attacked you. It was self defense. Right?" When he nodded, she took his hand and began walking again. "Then it's not your fault."

Those final words rang in their heads as they worked to clean the evidence out of Norma's car. They both tried to believe it.

.  
 _"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_  
 _in secret,_  
 _between the shadow and the soul."_  
.

A few days later, their world began to dissolve around them.

Norma was alone in the office in the afternoon. Emma had needed the day off since she wasn't feeling so well, complications arising with her cystic fibrosis, and Norman was at the house working on a pretty little fawn he'd found on the side of the road, freshly dead and perfect for preservation. It hadn't taken long to finish organizing the books, and now she was researching the cost of living in Paris with visions of cheeses and dresses and glamorous living dancing in her head, when the door opened. They only had three months or so to make it happen, but she was so hopeful.

The door to the office opened. "Oh, Alex!" she said happily as the sheriff entered, coming around the counter to give him a quick hug. "How are you? We haven't seen you around much since you moved back into your place."

"I'm, uh... I'm fine, Norma," he began, clearly uncomfortable. "Where's Norman?"

"He's at the house, working on one of his projects." His strange demeanor caught her attention, and she stepped back, laying her hand on the motel ledger and crossing her legs where she stood. "What's goin' on, Alex?"

"Maybe we should sit down," he said, trying to take her elbow.

"No, I'm fine standing." She spoke quietly and moved back behind the counter, folding her hands over her stomach.

He sighed with frustration. "Have it your way. I need you to tell me who the father of your child is."

"Which one?" she asked, voice constricting.

"You know which one."

Norma pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "That's not any of your business, Alex."

"At this point, it is my business." He put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. "Norma, I've heard some fairly disturbing things in town. People are talking, and I tracked it down to the source."

"What _things_ have you heard exactly?" Norma spat, voice dripping venom.

It was some time before he continued, finally meeting her eyes. "Have you and Norman ever gone to Newport?"

Her heart dropped, and she tilted her head, pretending to think hard. "Newport? No, I- I don't think so."

"You don't think so," he repeated, voice mocking.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Her eyes were wide, and she couldn't control the aura of fright she was projecting.

The sheriff rubbed his forehead, struggling internally. "Christine Heldens and her husband were out to dinner in Newport a few weeks ago. They say they saw you and Norman there at a restaurant." He paused significantly, ostensibly waiting for her to respond, but when she didn't, he went on. "They said you were... kissing, and holding hands."

"Oh, what, I'm not allowed to hold hands with my son now?" she asked loudly, trying to keep her voice from sounding as scared as she felt by sounding angry.

"Not if you're gonna stick your tongue down his throat at the same time!"

The words rang around them in the mostly silent office for a moment, Norma's mouth falling open. "How dare you? How dare you say that to me?" she asked quietly. She stepped forward and slapped his face.

They were both silent for a moment. "That's all you have to say in your defense?" He asked, looking genuinely hurt and disturbed.

Breath coming in little pants, Norma moved back again, eyes darting around the room. "Christine Heldens hates me because I rejected her her stupid brother. She's making up stories to get back at me, it's as simple as that."

Romero didn't speak, simply pulling a small white envelope from his back pocket and handing it to her. She took it, shaking fingers pulling it open and slipping out several small photographs from the inside. There they were, near the window at the steakhouse. In one, they were laughing as he held her hand; in another, he had cupped the back of her neck and she was kissing him in a deeply un-motherly way. She sorted through the half dozen or so pictures,each more damning than the last, and admired them as her heart turned to stone.

"I'm gonna ask you again. Who is this child's father?" the sheriff asked again, voice quiet. The way she turned to him, covering her mouth with a hand as she stared, was answer enough. "If this becomes public, which is already starting, you know what I'll have to do."

Yes, she knew. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines and prison; Oregon had some of the worst penalties for incest in the country. She swallowed, pocketing the pictures. She knew there were copies; she just wanted them. "We're leaving, before the baby comes," she said finally, standing defiant and ignoring the twinge in her stomach. "It won't be your problem."

"God, Norma..." His nose wrinkled up as he turned halfway from her, disgust emanating from him. "I can't believe this is true."

"I never said it was!" she spat back, rubbing her side.

"Stop it, Norma! I wanted those to be fake so badly, I wanted..." The sheriff sighed. "It doesn't matter anymore. You'll have to get out fast, the way this is spreading."

"Alex."

"I'm gonna go. I can't do this right now."

"Alex, wait..."

Something in her voice made him look at her again. Her skin was pale, her face wan, and her hands clutched her belly. "I'm having contractions."

.

To Be Continued  
.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

"The Imperfect Lover" by Siegfried Sassoon

"Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe

"Sonnet XVII" by Pablo Neruda


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

.

Yet again, I feel I'm getting ahead of myself but I can't wait anymore. I promised ALittleTasteOfMadness that I'd have this posted tonight, so post it I shall!

As usual, a quick shout out to reviewers: **ALittleTasteOfMadness** has, per usual, been awesome. I'm so glad you are engaged in the fic! Hopefully we can cheer each other up with this chapter. :) And I'm so happy to get more feedback from you, **Edifying**! Wow, I'm blown away! I hope it messed with you in a good way, LOL. Thank you for your support of the fic and my family. And it's no problem, **Cleo** , I know real life gets in the way of fandom sometimes, even though it's sad when it happens. I might be there with you sometime. Good luck on the bar exam! And last, but NOT least, **Sandra** my dear, thank you for your kind words and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

All right, kind of another depressio one, so get ready for it. I can't help it; I love the feels. Don't forget to let me know what you think!

.

.

" _I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,_  
 _distant and full of sorrow as though you had died._  
 _One word then, one smile, is enough._  
 _And I am happy, happy that it's not true._ "  
.

Everything was coming along well, Norman thought, appreciating the dim peace of his basement sanctuary. The skin was coming off the little deer easier than he'd anticipated. He idly wondered what had happened to cause the animals death; she wasn't injured in any way, so the only conclusion he could come to was that the animal had become separated from her mother somehow. It made him sad to think about, but he would give her short life meaning by turning her into a work of art.

His phone buzzed against his work table and he smiled to see Norma's face lighting up the screen as he answered. "Hi, Mom. What do you need?"

"Actually, Norman, it's Sheriff Romero," came the tiny voice from his phone, a little cry in the background turning his blood to ice. "I'm down in the motel office. Your moth- Norma is having some problems."

All his breath left him. "What kind of problems?"

"Contractions. I think it's premature labor. I called an ambulance, but she's asking for you."

He shoved his phone in his pocket, threw down the bloody instrument in his hand, and rushed up the stairs and out of the house as fast as he could, tearing off his smock as he ran. All he could hear was his pulse pounding in his ears and the distant sound of sirens. When he burst inside the office, he saw Norma lying on the ground with Romero hovering over her, the sheriff's jacket folded under her head. "Mother!" he cried, sinking to his knees next to her.

"Oh, Norman, I'm so scared!" She sobbed, tears streaming down into her hairline.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," he assured her quietly, stroking her hair and laying next to her. "Everything will be fine. Just try to relax."

"Our baby... oh, Norman..."

Norman glanced at the older man for a fraction of a second before returning his attention to the most important person in the world. "Our baby will be fine, Mom. Take a deep breath, slowly," he instructed her, stroking her face. "Keep breathing. Try to calm down."

By the time the ambulance had arrived, she was quiet, trying to use willpower to overcome her body. "You should go to the hospital," Romero said, "Get checked out."

Norma started to shake her head. "Yes, we should, the sheriff is right," Norman agreed. "Don't argue, Mom." The two men moved outside the office as the paramedics began transferring Norma onto a pallet, and as soon as they were out the door, Norman rounded on the sheriff. "What did you do to her?" he hissed dangerously.

"Nothing, we were just talking-"

"About what? She's had a terrible time recently, she doesn't need any more stress in her life, especially not from you!" The younger man was right up in Romero's space, face flushed and jaw clenched, his voice a harsh whisper. "You'll leave her alone. We don't want you here!"

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Norman," he whispered back. "Look, I get that you're worried about her. I am, too, okay? But there are things going on between you that I might have to deal with."

"What do you mean?" Norman's voice was frozen, a darkness coming over his face.

Romero shifted away, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ask your mom, okay? And get the envelope out of her pocket before the paramedics do."

Norman would have questioned him further, but just then he heard his mother weakly calling for him from the inside of the ambulance. "We _will_ talk more later," Norman promised him before he turned away and quickly hopped into the emergency vehicle.

.

 _"Thy vows are all broken,_  
 _And light is thy fame;_  
 _I hear thy name spoken,_  
 _And share in its shame."_

.

Norma looked fragile in the hospital bed, covered in a blue smock and blankets. She was reclining, several tubes leading down her left bicep where they emptied into her veins, but she seemed completely relaxed, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Wires were leading out from under the blankets to a display beside her, which was thankfully still now, the muscle spasms seeming to have ended. She'd been resting for hours.

Norman sat beside her trembling, holding her right hand between his two. The doctor had ordered something called ritodrine to be administered, indicating that it would help control the contractions in case she was going into premature labor, and Norma had succumbed to the drug fairly rapidly. He moved his chair closer, stroking her hair gently and thinking of all the terrible things that might have happened.

"Norman?" she whispered, the words hoarse.

"Yes, Mother, I'm here."

She moved her tongue around her lips a little, trying to crack one eye open. "I'm so thirsty..."

"Here."

He held a small cup for her, and she drank a little sip of the lukewarm water. She tried to look at him, but quickly closed her lids again. "You're all blurry, honey. What did they give me again?"

His eyes started tearing, and he checked that their door was closed before giving her a quick peck. "I'm not exactly sure, Mom," he said, voice croaky with suppressed emotion, "but it seems to be working."

She reached out to him, and he took her hand again instantly. "Oh, Norman," she said weakly. "We're okay, we're all okay now."

There was a soft knock, and the door opened. It was Doctor Levine, the same doctor that had treated Norman when he'd had his blackout at school over a year ago, and he moved over to Norma confidently. "How are we doing?" he asked.

"I'm having trouble focusing," Norma said softly, trying to look at him before closing her eyes again.

"Yes, that's completely normal," he reassured her. "Just a side effect of the drug." He examined the display, noting the still, green line on it. "It looks like the contractions have stopped, so we'll ease off the medication a little now. I want you to stay the night, though, so we can be sure."

"But I want to be home!" she said, voice breaking as she began to cry, drops sneaking out from beneath her closed eyelids.

Norman's heart broke along with her voice, and he leaned over to comfort her with an embrace. "Shhh, Mother, maybe it's best, so we can be sure- be sure the baby is okay." He stumbled over the words, almost forgetting someone else was in the room. The image of the pictures he'd found in his mother's pocket flashed before his eyes, and he wondered if the doctor already knew the truth. It was a small town. "I'll stay, too, don't worry."

Looking a tad concerned, the doctor found Norma's chart and made some notes. "We don't really have a cot for you down here, just the recliner."

"I'll be fine. I'm not worried about me."

Nodding, the older man adjusted the setting on the intravenous drip. "If everything is normal in the morning, we'll send you home, Mrs. Bates. You'll have to take a smaller dosage of the medicine for the rest of your pregnancy, just to be safe. The side effects won't be so bad with the lower dosage, but you really will have to take it easy."

Norma swallowed and nodded, trying to bring herself under control.

"I'll have a nurse bring in some blankets for you," he said to Norman. "You should both get some rest."

.

 _"Yet if hope has flown away_  
 _In a night, or in a day,_  
 _In a vision, or in none,_  
 _Is it therefore the less gone?"_

.

Norma stirred, cuddling into the solid warmth next to her. She felt sleepy, dizzy, muzzy... and she hated feeling that way. She thought of Francine and her sedatives. What had happened? She breathed in the comforting scent of the skin beneath her nose... Norman... But something sterile and chemical seemed to pervade it.

She heard a kind of thumping noise and a door opening, and turned toward it. The dim light still hurt her eyes, and she couldn't focus on the figure entering the room. "Hello?" she murmured sleepily.

"Hello, Mrs. Bates," said a soft feminine voice. "Are you and your son comfortable like that?"

"What?" Her mind felt fuzzy. Who was this woman?

"We're fine," sounded the clear voice of Norman, and he started to move away.

"No, sweetie, stay," she said pathetically, clutching at him. Her body felt heavy, heavier than it should, and she couldn't move as she wished.

His weight settled again, his arms wrapping around her. "Of course, Mother. Whatever you want."

She snuggled back into his warmth, relaxing against him. As long as he was here, she would be safe.

.

 _"Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;_  
 _Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see_  
 _A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings_  
 _And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings."_

.

Norman hadn't slept all night. It wasn't possible in this place, but if his presence helped Norma rest, he would be here.

He blinked blearily as watched his mother stirring, eyes stinging from the need to close. The machines had been silent all night, and he was sure they could retreat back to their house by the afternoon at least. He felt Norma lifting her head, craning her neck so she was facing him, her eyes opened just enough that he could see a sliver of blue through the lids. "Norman?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered, pulling her close.

"I want to go home." Her words were pitiful, echoing in the empty chamber of the hospital room.

"We will, Mother. Do you want me to get the nurse?"

"What for?" she asked, depressed. "I don't want anymore drugs."

Norman stroked her hair gently. "I know, Mother. We can tell her you feel better, and she'll get the doctor to release us."

"Why wait for the doctor?" she mumbled into neck.

He laughed wearily. "Because, Mother, we won't get the prescription we need unless we play by the rules!"

Norman did get the morning nurse, and he turned off the intravenous drip completely. In just a bit, Norma was feeling more herself, scowling around the room with her arms crossed. "I hate this place," she said, grimacing.

"It'll be over soon, Mom," Norman answered, taking her hand. "Just a little longer. Please." Norma looked over at him, face softening. He remembered a quiet house, sitting with her on a bench as she played a gentle tune, and how wonderful it had felt to be with her alone, when his father and brother were gone. "You can teach him how to play piano," he said softly, pressing their foreheads together. "We can sing to him together."

"I wouldn't leave without making sure we had what we needed," she said softly, pulling his chin up. "No matter how terrible this is."

Another knock sounded, and the doctor entered again. "How are you this morning, Mrs. Bates?"

"Miserable and ready to leave," she answered promptly.

He smiled a little grimly. "Well, at least you're feeling more like yourself this morning." He checked her vitals, and made a few notes on her chart. "Now, Norman, if you could just step outside for a few minutes..."

"What? Why?" he asked indignantly, moving closer to his mother's bedside.

Doctor Levine seemed taken aback by his reaction. "I have some... personal matters to discuss with your mother, and I thought she might feel it was inappropriate to have you in the room when I-"

"I'm not going anywhere!" He put his arm around Norma's shoulders, glaring defiantly at the older man. "I'm going to be the one taking care of her, I need to know everything."

The doctor looked to Norma for support, but she sighed and wrapped her arm around Norman's waist. "It's fine. He can hear anything you need to say."

Levine blinked. "I'm really not comfortable with this, Mrs. Bates," he protested.

"Then get me someone who is, so I can get this over with!" she yelled.

Norman's eyes flashed, fist clenching at his side. "Look, you're upsetting her!"

"Fine then," he said, sighing. "Mrs. Bates, about the marks on you, I know you indicated that it was consensual. Still, I'd advise you refrain from any BDSM activities for the remainder of your pregnancy. The stress on your body may have contributed to this issue."

They were all quiet for a moment. "What about sex?" Norma asked bluntly.

"Just be careful with it," he answered, looking disturbed as he looked from mother to son, who were still holding each other. "And if you start to feel any contractions like these again, come in immediately."

"That won't be a problem," Norman assured him, squeezing Norma closer.

Within the hour, the doctor had given them a four month prescription for the tablets, and the nurse had let them sign the release paperwork with a promise that Norma would visit her OBGYN within the week. Norman carefully helped Norma into the clothes that Dylan had brought the evening before, and then insisted on pushing the wheelchair out of the hospital himself.

Dylan was there as they exited. He took in Norma's pale, dazed expression, and decided to put off the discussion they needed to have. Looking up, he was treated to the bloodshot, hollow eyes of his younger brother, who looked likely to collapse at any moment. "Why don't you guys get comfortable in the back," he said quietly. "I'll get us there."

Norman weakly helped his mother into the car, following behind her. They were too tired to argue.

.

To Be Continued

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"I Like for You to be Still" by Pablo Neruda

"When We Two Parted" by Lord Byron

"A Dream Within A Dream" by Edgar Allen Poe

"Piano" by D. H. Lawrence

.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

.

Hello, readers! Thank you for joining me again for my story. I want everyone to know as I post this chapter, that I am currently writing the epilogue. Not much more to come, at this point. I hope you'll all stay with me to the end.

 **Edifying** , oh my gosh, I love your description! It was a special chapter for me in many ways. I'm so happy it moved you. **ALittleTasteOfMadness** , you know I'm not going to let you down like that! This story is supposed to end happily, just hang on to that! Yes, I chuckled at the doctor myself, lol. And **Cleo** , I totally understand. The nurse saw some weird stuff too, so I get it that you're worried. Read on, my friend!

Not much more I can say about this, but I hope it's entertaining for everyone! We're moving towards an end, I promise. And please do let me know what you think.

.

 _"God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,_  
 _And hell is more than half of paradise._  
 _No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies—_  
 _In eastern skies."_

.

Dylan helped out with the motel, while Norman took care of Norma. Norman was happy to see the way his brother and Emma were bonding, how much time they were spending together, but he didn't see it often. He needed to be there in case Norma had any problems at all.

"Norman, for God's sake!" she bellowed, despite the fact that he was only a few feet from where she was sitting on the couch. "I can get the damn remote control by myself!"

"Mother, please," he entreated her, handing her the small plastic device. "You've taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking ten steps," she argued, turning away from him.

He sat next to her and wrapped himself around her from behind, kissing her neck. "The medicine is making you dizzy. That's not your fault." When she turned to him, her face was a mask of hopelessness. "What is it, Mom?"

"How are we getting out of here before the baby comes, if I can't even walk straight?" she said sadly.

Norman laughed. "You think you'll be the first pregnant woman who needs help onto an airplane?"

"Don't laugh, Norman."

She looked hurt, and he thought he understood. "It doesn't matter if you're clumsy. You're more beautiful now than you were ten minutes ago," he breathed, pulling her closer. "You'll put every other mother-to-be to shame."

She cupped his cheek, brow creasing. "Where will the money come from?" she whispered. "There's not any equity in the house or the motel, and..."

Norman quieted, meeting his mother's questioning eyes. "I've made around $12000 on my novel since it was published," he said softly. "Only about four weeks, and that's got to mean something, right?"

"It means you're a good author, which I've never questioned," she said softly. "I just don't think that will be enough to get us safely away..." Still, she let him hold her closer, sighing at the feeling of his gentle arms. "And I can't do anything. I'm useless..." Tears started flowing down her cheeks, "I can't save you, Norman..." Her voice was wrecked, her body completely dependent on her son's to support her. "I can't save any of us."

"I'll find a way, Mother," he said, voice harsh and uncompromising. "We'll make it some how."

And he meant it.

.  
 _"Money's new-minted in this fat purse._  
 _I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf._  
 _I've eaten a bag of green apples,_  
 _Boarded the train there's no getting off."_  
.

The stairs seemed dreadfully steep as Norma descended. They were nearly unassailable, so much worse than she'd imagined; a stone gauntlet where she could never gain victory. Still, she slid inch by inch, half-sitting on the stone railings until she reached the very bottom. She trusted Dylan and Emma to run the motel, absolutely, but she was tired of being in the house, tired of being cooped up like an invalid.

The sunlight was bright as she moved slowly away from the solid stone, aiming for the tiny motel office. Maybe she couldn't move enough to get to the market, or any restaurants or cafes, but she could still sit in her own motel office.

When she entered, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, no one was in evidence. She moved inside, grabbing the desk for support as she shuffled to the seat behind it. She really didn't need help, after all, she was perfectly capable of doing whatever was needed on her own. With a delighted sigh, she settled behind the counter and began looking through the ledger. It was completely in order, of course, and almost all the rooms were full for the next four weeks solid.

The door opened, and Dylan came inside. "Norma, what are you doing here?" he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just fine!" she answered happily. "I needed some fresh air, I was tired of being in the house by myself."

He rolled his eyes. "You can't just go around on your own anymore. Norman is supposed to be helping you."

"Oh, he went to the store for some things, and I felt lonely." Her voice was quiet and quick, and she smiled at him, trying to push down the guilt she felt as fire danced in her mind. "Can I keep you company for a while, Dylan? Please?"

"Yeah, sure." He moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, shoulders hunched. "Hey, Norma? You, uh..." He shifted, looking at her sideways. "You haven't heard from your brother, have you?"

Norma swallowed. They hadn't spoken of that day, both afraid for completely different reasons. Luckily, Norma could answer this query truthfully. "Caleb? No, honey, I haven't talked to him," she said sadly. "Why do you ask?"

"He's just... gone." He looked lost, and she stood and slowly moved to hold his hand. "I mean, everything is there, but he's not. I just don't get it- where could he have gone? Why would he leave?"

"I'm sorry." That was all she could offer, but he took it the wrong way.

He turned to her urgently now. "I hope you... I hope you can forgive me. I just wanted to know him, you know? I should have known he wouldn't stick around."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, pulling him into her arms. "Of course I can. You don't even need to ask." He moved back and turned away, embarrassed of his tears, and she patted his back gently.

The ringing of the motel phone interrupted the silence, and Norma held the counter as she moved to pick it up. "Bates Motel, how can we help you?"

"Hi, I'm looking for Norma Louise Bates."

This sounded official, and she wondered if this was the first step in the process that would be separating her from Norman. Something closed up inside her, fear making her words short. "Who's calling?"

"This is Ryan Pena from the law firm of Hart, Stebbins, and Pena in Boise, Idaho."

Her throat closed up on her, and she swallowed. Idaho... that didn't seem right... "This is she."

"Miss Bates, we're the executors of the estate of Francine Calhoun, your mother. She died on the 17th, and my sincere condolences. We're working here on the disposition of her estate,and we've been unable to reach your brother."

A rush of relief mixed with grief hit her all at once, and a little noise of despair left her. Her initial response was to shut it down, to tell the lawyer she didn't want a dime, but in her mind's eye she saw herself and Norman on the beach, a little toddler with brown hair between them; a normal, accepted family. She took a deep breath. "All right. What do you need?"

.

 _"Out of a grave I come to tell you this,_  
 _Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss."_

.

It seemed forever before Norman returned home. Dylan helped Norma back up to the house where she began gathering the information needed to retrieve the money from her mother's estate. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars would be more than enough for a relocation, at least she hoped.

She was starting to worry about Norman. Three hours, for just a few essentials, seemed extreme. Her brother, her mother... it would be poetic justice if she lost Norman now that she had the means to get them safely away. She should never have let Norman drive himself; he didn't even have a license. What if he had an episode while driving? What if he hurt himself, or someone else? Next time she would ask Dylan or Emma to go, assuming he made it home safe and sound.

She had just dialed his phone when he came bursting in the door with two paper bags in his arms. "Mother! Mother!"

"Oh, Norman!" she cried, trying to rise and run to him.

She ended up stumbling and catching herself on the sofa, and he quickly put the bags on the floor. "Don't, Mom, don't try to move fast-" He took her arm and she crumpled against his chest, sobbing into him. "What is it? What's happened?"

"I was just so worried about you!" she bawled, squeezing him close. He lead her back to the sofa, sitting down and pulling her against his solid frame. "You were gone so long, I didn't know what to think!"

"I was just... I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure..." He stroked her hair gently. "It was a mistake, I'm sorry. I was meeting with my publisher, Mother. I was ...negotiating. I didn't want to say anything..."

"Negotiating what?" she sniffled, looking up to meet his eyes.

"The sequel. I finished my second book, and... And my first is on the New York Times Best Sellers list."

"Norman! Really?" She was instantly elated, her mood shifting with his excitement. "That's amazing!"

"I knew we needed money," he said quickly, taking her hand. "With the new publicity, the first is selling faster than expected, and I thought... I mean, sometimes they pay you a lump sum instead of a percentage. We might lose a little over the long run, but... They're paying me two hundred thousand right now. We've got enough to make it now. We can go to France, or Sweden, or wherever. We can be together."

Norma gave him a watery laugh before beginning to sob hysterically, burying her face in his chest.

"Mom, what is it? What have I done?" he asked frantically.

"Nothing, baby, nothing." She kissed him over and over, hindered by the bulk of her belly as it pressed into him. Finally, she found her voice, holding him as close as she could. "I just... my mother is dead... and I agreed to inheriting her estate."

"Oh, Mom." He sounded devastated, holding her close. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't spoken to her in, like, twenty years. It's nothing, it doesn't mean anything." She was stiff in his arms, and she moved away before she could start crying again. "We just needed the money."

When Norman was quiet behind her, she turned to see his sweet face watching her. "Mother. I can tell you're upset."

She finally let him hold her and told him everything.

.

 _"From the thunder and the storm,_  
 _And the cloud that took the form_  
 _(When the rest of Heaven was blue)_  
 _Of a demon in my view."_  
.

Norman was solicitous all evening, concerned his mother might have some sort of break down that would hurt her in her delicate state. Dylan and Emma were already practically running everything, and a brief text message ensured that they wouldn't have to worry about the motel for the night.

It was still an adjustment. Norman moved around the kitchen, throwing together chicken and rice soup; chicken, broth, carrots, celery, onions, and rice. It was something his mother had loved to make them when they were feeling under the weather, and this seemed an appropriate occasion. He served it up and went to find Norma, concerned when she was laying fully clothed in their bed, head turned to the side as the idly picked at the pillow case. "Mother?" he asked quietly. He set the tray on the bedside table, laying behind her and engulfing her in his arms. "I know this is hard, Mother. I'm here with you."

She shifted until she was against him, her face puffy but tearless. "I know you are, baby." He settled as she wound her limbs around him, moving to hold her as well. "I couldn't make it without you. You're the most important person in the world to me..."

Norman sighed and relaxed into the mattress. He adored his mother, and he hated to think he was contributing to her pain somehow. He pulled her down, nearly smothering as he tried to bury himself under her. "I love you so much, Mother," he breathed into her skin.

"Norman..." She moved into a sitting position, pulling her blouse over her head. She look heavenly, her blonde hair illuminated by the late sunlight coming in through the window, her breasts full and heavy above her pronounced stomach. "I need you..."

"But the doctor said..."

"He said to be careful. We can do that, can't we?"

Nodding, Norman kissed her sensuously, hands moving her skirt up around her hips before his fingers found the heat between her legs. She couldn't stay sitting for long, and she fell on the mattress as he hovered over her. "Yeah, we can do that," he echoed.

He pulled her panties down with one hand as he sucked on her neck, and moved with soft kisses down her torso. He kissed and nuzzled her tummy for a moment, kissing the dark line that extended down the middle of her stomach. He groaned as he moved further down, moving his tongue into her. He used his fingers inside her, gentle and steady, relishing her little moans until she came, a tiny gush of liquid pulsing over hand as she gasped.

He moved up to hold her, and she stroked his face. "Norman, what...?" She looked hurt and confused as he moved to lay by her side, his erection still prominent.

"It's not safe." His voice was gruff, and it was clear he was just barely holding himself in check.

"It is," she said, desperate

Norman moved his hand over her stomach, which was hard and tense. "It's not a real contraction, though," she argued weakly. "This has happened before..."

"I don't want to take any chances."

The whole point, she thought, was for the two of them to find each other here. It's what she needed, and he was fighting it. "Norman, please..."

Her hand wrapped around him, and he relented, kissing her gently. He rose over her on his knees, pulling her hips up over his lap until he could push inside her. With a low whine, he pulled her legs up over his shoulders, thrusting gently. Norma bit her lip as he moved, toes curling at the feeling of him moving inside her. "Mother," he whispered, holding himself inside her. He was nearly still as he shot himself inside her, just a few little jerks of hips, and he kissed her ankle before he collapsed at her side.

They were both silent for a few minutes, kissing and cuddling, basking in each other's company. A sense of relief and rightness settled over them. They had what they needed to get away safely.

.

To be Continued

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"Luke Havergal" by Edwin A Robinson

"Metaphors" by Sylvia Plath

"Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

.

All right, my lovelies! This is the second-to-last chapter, though there will be an epilogue. This is a lot longer than normal, but I just couldn't shorten it. I'd apologize, except I think some will be pleased...

 **ALittleTasteOfMadness** , you are so adorable, as always! There are only a couple more installments, so prepare yourself, lol. And **Sandra** , it'll be okay. This story is coming to an end, but there are so many more stories I have brewing in my mind. :)

To address something the **Guest** reviewer brought up, I actually have no problem with Normero! I think Sheriff Romero himself is just an awesome guy all around, and in a perfect world where Norma and Norman were both well adjusted, they would be great together. Unfortunately, the Norms are too codependent for it to be realistic to me. It just doesn't do it for me at all, but who cares? Get your Normero on, man! We can all ship at will and still be great friends!

Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for reading!

.  
 _"Live not for battles won._  
 _Live not for the-end-of-the-song._  
 _Live in the along."_  
.

Now that they knew they'd have over three hundred thousand dollars available, Norma began the necessary steps of applying for citizenship in France. She had displayed an obvious preference, and Norman hadn't argued; he said he didn't care where they went, as long as they could be together. They went out of town for their passports, and collected extra photos for the residency visa. Norma filled out the application and collected the proof of income and insurance that was required for their application. She even filled out most of the application paperwork that was required.

The hardest part was finding somewhere to live; she hadn't realized that they had to have lodging already available and paid for when they applied. For now, they needed somewhere inexpensive, somewhere they could make work for a year or two while they saved up for a more permanent home. After weeks of searching, Norma found them a small two bedroom house in the Norman region for around nine hundred dollars a month; it seemed humorously appropriate, and they shared a laugh over it. It took nearly two more weeks to finalize the lease.

Then, after so much time searching, planning, and executing, they were ready. She made their appointment at the embassy, and they decided to drive to San Francisco rather than fly. Flying at seven months of pregnancy was unsure at best, and they should avoid it until the final departure. After the ten hour drive, they stayed at a nice hotel for the night, enjoying a nice dinner out.

In the end, their application was accepted, and they planned to fly to Paris and drive to their new home four weeks before Norma's due date.

 _"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,_  
 _I took the one less traveled by,_  
 _And that has made all the difference."_

The worst part was deciding what to take and what to leave.

Norma had saved all the pictures Norman had shattered in his passion, and she included them in her suitcase, planning to buy frames once they arrived. Norman seemed to be attached to all the physical indicators of their love; Francine's antique tea pot that Norma had been using the first night he'd come to her; the cream colored outfit he'd sensuously unbuttoned the day after; the blue flowered dress that drove him wild; the frying pan he'd burnt the bacon in when she'd ambushed him in the kitchen. He even planned to bring the couch in the living area with them.

"Norman, we are absolutely _not_ taking the _sofa_ with us!" she cried in exasperation.

"But it won't be that much more to ship, and-"

"Norman." He looked over, and she held his face in her hands. "It's just an object. We'll be together, even if the sofa stays."

"Of course. You're right." He closed the laptop, turning towards her. It was really happening, he thought; they had their plane tickets purchased, their visa's and passport's in order. Only two more weeks before they left, and he was getting antsy. "We can leave sooner," he said again, having repeated the same thing many times. "We can go tomorrow, for all I care."

"Let's give Emma some time to recover. She only had the surgery last month." Emma had finally returned to White Pine Bay, but was mostly resting at home, her body still adjusting to her new set of lungs. Once they had heard about the monetary donation that could save her life, Norma had instantly offered the funds to her father, and what could he do but accept? Norman had been to see her once, and she was full of excitement and joy, remarking several times on how much easier it was to breath now.

"Dylan has it under control," he protested. "And Romero said..."

"Norman."

He sighed. "Fine." He leaned back on the sofa in question and pulled her against him again. "None of my ideas are any good. What do you want to take?"

"You." She kissed him lightly.

"Mother..."

She snuggled into him with a contented sigh. "Really, honey, I don't care. I just want the pictures and a few dresses, and that's it. We're starting over; we'll get new furniture and clothes and everything else. I'm not worried."

"Starting over again," he snorted. "Hopefully for the last time."

"I hope so too."

They visited Emma a few days later, bringing several legal documents with them. "So, here's the contract," Norma finished, presenting the papers to Emma as she lay in her bed, looking blissful with no tubes leading into her nostrils. "It's just like we talked about, a 70-30 split of the profit in your favor. You just need to put our thirty percent into a savings account, which we've already set up for you."

"Oh my gosh, you guys!" Emma said excitedly, grabbing a pen and signing the paper. "I'm so excited! I mean, not that I won't miss you, but... I'm going to take great care of your motel, I promise!" She moved the contract over onto the other side of her bed and hopped up, hugging Norma and then Norman in turn. "I just... I owe you both so much, and I'll miss you so much. But I'm grateful for this opportunity."

"Of course you are, dear," Norma said kindly, patting her hand. "And Dylan will still be here to help, of course. Norman and I are just a phone call away."

"And several thousand miles," she said cheekily.

"You'll come visit, won't you?" Norman said earnestly. "After we're settled? I'm sure the baby will want to meet his Aunt Emma."

Emma blushed and gave them a little smile. "We'll see about the aunt part..."

 _._  
 _For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains_  
 _You give me are more precious than all other gains._  
 _._

One more week, before they were slated to leave.

Norman had taken a break from his writing several weeks earlier and was listening almost constantly to a CD set meant to teach him French.

"Which way to the bathroom?" Droned the woman. "Où donner de la salle de bains?"

"Ou donner... de la sall duh bane," he repeated haltingly, voice echoing in the empty basement as he sewed the skin of the little fawn together over the form he'd crafted.

"The bathroom is to the left, in the back. La salle de bain se trouve à gauche, dans le dos."

His hands faltered as he concentrated. "La sall duh bane se trouve a gouch, dans le dos."

"How much do the green beans cost?" the monotone female continued. "Combien coûte les haricots verts?"

"Comb-ee-an coo... Fuck." He shut off the tape, dropped his needle, and rubbed his face. "I'm never going to get this."

The soft, melodic tones of his mother fell on his ears from the stairwell. "Bien sûr, vous, vous faites bien. Il sera plus facile une fois que nous sommes là. N'abandonne pas." She'd been listening to the advanced French course she'd purchased, and she sounded nearly fluent now.

"All I understood were the words 'you' and 'good'," he grumbled, beginning to stitch the fawn together again. "I'm just never going to get it, Mother. I'm sorry."

Norma came down the stairs carefully, still dizzy from her medication, and settled herself on Norman's lap as he steadied her. "You could never speak a word of French, and I wouldn't care. Je t'aime plus que tout."

Norman wrapped his arms around her solidly, recognizing the first phrase she'd ingrained in him. "Je t'aime, Mère," he responded eagerly, kissing her collarbone.

"You'll have to start practicing calling me 'Norma'," she said, voice soft with love.

"Why?" he protested, kissing her skin again. "You hear husbands refer to their wives as "mother" all the time when they have kids."

"Is that the same in France?" she wondered, stroking his hair as goosebumps rose on her. "Besides, we're not married."

Norman pulled back and looked into her eyes. "We're as good as, and we have the same name. Isn't that what people will assume, once we get there?" He could tell from her strange expression that this had never occurred to her. "Does that bother you?"

.

 _"...my blood approves  
_ _and kisses are a better fate  
_ _than wisdom..."_

.

Norma thought for a moment. There really was no chance that anyone would find out otherwise, and even if they did, there were no restrictions or laws against their relationship. She looked into his hopeful eyes, unable to speak.

"Will you be my wife?" he asked quietly, smiling with a twinkle in his eye.

She was suddenly overcome with emotion, and she clutched him to her. "Yes," she whispered. She kissed his neck and cheek and moved to press her forehead to his. "Yes, Norman..."

Norman wrapped his arms more tightly around her, the bulge of her belly pressing between them. "Norma..." he breathed quietly, hoping to please her, but she stiffened. "What is it?"

She shook her head slightly. "Not now," she begged quietly.

He understood instantly. "Mother," he said, voice low.

"Yes." It was an answer and an affirmation.

His hold tighten, and he nuzzled her ear. "See? You don't want me to call you Norma, do you?"

"No." She was being too honest, melting into his arms. "Just... When other people are around..."

Chuckling, Norman swiveled her around until she was sitting on his taxidermy table and pushed her legs apart. "You don't want me to call you Norma when we're together, like this?" he asked with a little sly grin.

Trembling, Norma clutched onto his shoulders as she felt his hand slide until her skirt. "No," she gasped, spreading her legs wider. "I don't."

His fingers met their goal and pushed inside her slippery folds, listening to her choked noises. "I'm sorry, Mother, I'll try to remember..." he said, voice unforgiving as she moaned and tried to push herself onto his digits.

The front door slammed, and they both froze, Norma meeting his eyes. "Hello?" came a feminine voice.

"Move," Norma hissed, and they separated, Norman helping his mother stand. She pulled her dress down and smoothed her hair. "Stay down here, I'll see who it is," she whispered.

"No, Mother," he protested, but in the end he let her go, standing at the bottom of the stairs to listen.

 _._

 _"The dark thought, the shame, the malice_  
 _Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in."_

 _._

Norma stumbled slightly as she came up the stairs, turning to look for their visitor. She couldn't find anyone in the foyer, so she walked forward a bit into the living room.

Red hair flashed in the sunlight from the window. Christine was standing there, examining the few photos they still had out, a strange grimace on her face. She'd picked up a particular picture, one that had survived Norman's arm sweeping it to the floor. It was Norma and Norman in the park two autumns ago, both wearing mismatched scarlet. Norma's arm was thrown over his shoulder, and Norman gripped her hand tightly, matching expressions of delight on their faces as their heads inclined towards each other.

Where had that innocent time gone, she thought? Had it ever really existed to begin with?

"Christine, welcome to my home," Norma said coldly, leaning on the door frame. "Not that you knocked... How can I help you?"

"Oh, Norma, I knocked, but no one answered," she began, coming around the sofa, "There's nothing you can do to help me, but I'm trying to help you."

"Really?" Her tone was mocking, but she dare not move and give away how unstable she was on her feet. "And how are you helping me, exactly?"

Moving towards her, Christine's face took on a sinister smile and she paused. "I showed Alex those pictures hoping he'd arrest you, but when he didn't... Well, I knew something else would have to be done." Christine stopped inches from her, cruelty written in her features. "I've made copies, and I'm going to distribute them. Everyone in town will know, and it'll force his hand."

Steeling herself, Norma glared at her once-friend. "Why are you doing this to us?" she whispered, pain tracing her features.

"Because you're a terrible person and you shouldn't be in my town," Christine hissed. "You were awful to my brother, and you deserve to be hurt, and you're one sick bitch to be fucking your own son." Norma took a breath to respond, heart pounding with hurt and rage, but suddenly Christine's gaze shifted behind her. "It's not your fault, honey, you're the victim," she said, and Norma looked around to see Norman coming to her side.

"I'm the victim?" he said quietly, seemingly innocent and moving towards the redhead.

"Yes, of course," Christine said compassionately, looking on Norman with a motherly expression as he came slightly ahead of Norma.

"Because Mother has manipulated me and used me?" his voice was dangerously sweet.

Norma's heart stopped as she recognized the tone, saw his hand clenched at his side, holding something. "Norman, stop," Norma said, trying to grab his arm.

"Let the poor boy speak his mind. He's finally figured out how bad you are for him, Norma!" Christine said, reaching out and tugging him out of Norma's reach.

"Norman." His mother's voice was commanding and icy, and he turned to look at her. "Norman, don't."

He stopped, looking surprised. "But... But you said..."

What could he mean? "Now I'm saying stop," she said , holding out her hand. "Give it to me, Norman."

He stepped away from Christine and placed his hand in hers, depositing the item he had been holding; the scalpel he used on his animals. Heart rising into her throat, Norma maintained her composure, locking eyes with her nemesis as though there was no cause for alarm. She still allowed Norman to stand in front of her as she set the implement down on the top of the television; she was mostly afraid of what he might do if she tried to keep him from any defensive avenue.

Christine stared at the scalpel Norma had retrieved, then looked at Norman with disbelief. "You were going to kill me?" she asked with horror.

"Get out of my house," he snarled at her, gesturing to the door, "Or I still might!"

"Calm down, sweetie," Norma soothed, holding his bicep. She watched Christine from behind him, taking a perverse happiness in the look of shock on her face.

Christine stumbled backward. "You're both crazy," she said, tripping on the carpet. "I'm taking those pictures and distributing them right now, and you can't stop me!"

"Go ahead, Christine," Norma said softly, squeezing Norman's arm. They both watched her run, heard the door open and slam as she left.

Norman turned to his mother instantly. "We shouldn't have let her go," he said, frowning.

"Yes, we should have." Finally allowing herself to feel the terror she'd been holding inside. "Norman, what did you think you were doing?"

Her son looked puzzled, tilting his head. "Mom, you told me to do it. You handed me the scalpel."

"How could I have done that while I was up here arguing with Christine, Norman?" she asked, heart racing. "And why would you listen?"

Now it was Norman's turn to look confused. He glanced at her, then the scalpel and his own hand. "Oh... that's right, you couldn't have..." He clenched his fist and opened it. "But I thought..."

"Sit down, Norman," she said, and she moved with him to the sofa. "What did you see, down there?"

"Nothing, Mother, nothing."

Norma took his hand a looked entreatingly into his face. "It's okay, Norman. You can tell me anything. I love you."

It was quite some time before he spoke again, face flushing as he fidgeted. "Well... Mother, sometimes when I black out... I see you. And just now, I thought I saw you telling me to get rid of Christine so she couldn't keep us apart." He stopped and dropped to his knees in front of her, laying his head in her lap. "I'm so sorry, Mother. I try to stop it, but I can't always..."

.

 _"Surely his mother had never said,  
_ _'Lie here Till I return,' so spotty and plain to see  
_ _On the green moss lay he.  
_ _His eyes had opened; he considered me..."_

 _._

"It's all right," Norma said softly, stroking his chestnut hair as her heart constricted. "It's not your fault, baby." She kissed his head, breathing in the scent of him and softening her heart. "Norman, look at me." He did as he was told, eyes red and watery. "I will never tell you to kill anyone, do you understand?" When he didn't respond immediately, she took his face in her hands. "If you ever see me telling you to kill anyone, it's not real. Try to hold on to that. I would never ask you to do that."

A little tremor passed through him, and he closed his eyes, leaning toward his goddess. "Mother..." His voice was like a prayer.

"Norman, I want you to understand." She kissed him, lingering on his soft lips. "I would never ask you to do anything so violent."

"But, Keith..."

"Keith Summers was hurting me. If anyone ever tries to hurt me, physically, you can... You _can_." She shuddered, leaning her forehead into his. "But not otherwise. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said, his voice full of relief. "Yes, I understand."

"Good." She kissed him quickly. "Then we need to get our things and go."

"Go?" Norman reached out to support her as she stood. "Go where?"

She began moving toward the stairs, determination on her face. "We'll just have to take what we have packed already... I'll look for a bus station south of here while we go. You'll have to drive, sweetie. Be careful not to speed or-"

"What about our tickets? We're supposed to be leaving from Seattle!"

She stopped and looked at him. "Did you hear Christine? We have to leave now. We'll get new tickets, sweetheart, but if we don't go now, it might be too late."

Realization washed over his features, and they moved swiftly up the stairs together.

To Be Continued

.

"Speech to the Young" by Gwendolyn Brooks

"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost

"As the Ruin Falls" by C.S. Lewis

"The Guest House" by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

"The Fawn" by Edna St. Vincent Millay


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

.

 _Here it is! The last official chapter, with an epilogue to come. I hope this ends satisfactorily for everyone!_

 **Edifying** _, PLEASE DON'T DIE! Take a deep breath and start reading, everything will be okay._ **ALittleTasteOfMadness** _, as usual, you read my mind! I also love protective Norman. It sends chills through my whole body! *shiver* And last but certainly not least,_ **Hannigram-13** _, I'm so glad to hear that! That's the reason I started writing it in the first place. I notice your review was for chapter seven, so I hope you enjoyed the rest too, lol._

 _I had some formatting problems with the first post, but I think I've fixed them. Now then, without further ado, our last chapter. PLEASE review. I love reviews so much..._

.

.

 _"Tell him love, with speech at strife,  
For last utterance saith:  
`I who loved with all my life,  
Loved with all my death.'" _

.

"You really did kill Blaire Watson, didn't you?"

The words were soft and sure, with no apparent judgment in them. Norman's hands tightened on the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road and resisting the urge to look at his mother. "I told you already," he answered, deathly afraid of where this was leading.

The silence was deafening in the car, and Norman chanced a quick glance at his mother. She was staring out her window as they sped down the coastline, heading for the airport in San Francisco. They'd decided it would be easier to head to France immediately, though they would be on an airplane for the better part of twelve hours that night. The tickets were already purchased; Norma had handled that as Norman drove. Norman's whole body tightened in fear; would she still want to be with him, if she knew?

After a moment, she asked, "And you thought I'd told you to do it?"

He nodded, eyes flicking to meet hers for a fraction of a second. He felt the car accelerating, and he focused again, making sure they were right at the speed limit.

She shifted next to him, and her head landed on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. "I'm so, so sorry, Norman," she lamented, lifting her head long enough to kiss his neck. "I wish I had done something sooner, maybe some treatment could have helped you."

"It's not your fault, Mom," he responded, voice firm as guilt assailed him.

"Of course it is. I told you about my mother..." She took a deep breath, shuddering. "I'm sure I passed something along to you somehow..."

Somehow, this had never occurred to Norman before. He considered it, wondering if it could be connected. "You said she was sedated, that you didn't know where she got the drugs. Do you remember anything of her before that?"

"Just the fighting, honey. Nothing else."

He looped his right arm around her, holding her as they drove. "Do you still want to do this?" he asked quietly.

Norma lifted her head instantly, eyes narrowed and lips frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I just thought- maybe, if you knew- I mean, maybe you wouldn't want to be with me anymore." He stumbled over the words, heart aching.

"Pull over. Now."

He did as she asked, bringing the old car to a stop on the sandy side of the road. Watching the waves slowly rolling up the shore and back out, he trembled, unable to look at his mother for the fear in his heart. "Norman, look at me."

It wasn't until her hands found his cheeks and turned his head that he did. "I love you. There is nothing you could ever do that would change that. _Nothing_. I will help you with this, I will be with you through it, but I would never want to leave you. I love you more than I will ever love anyone or anything else in this world. Never doubt that, Norman."

When had tears started rolling down his cheeks? He sighed as she leaned forward and kissed them away, breath shaking as it left him, and they held each other briefly until Norma's phone began to ring.

She fished it out of her coat pocket, groaning as looked at the display. "Hi, Alex," she said, locking eyes with her son. "No, we're not in town anymore. Why?" He watched her close her eyes and lean her head back on the passenger seat. "I'm sorry, we're not going to come back. ...No, I'm not coming in to the station."

Norman didn't need to hear any more; he turned the key in the ignition and began to drive immediately, ears still perked to listen to his mother's side of the conversation.

"I thought you were with us on this, Alex," she said quietly. "...Well, no, it doesn't seem like it, it seems like you're trying to arrest me. Are there other people listening to us?" Norman moved to grip her free hand tightly. "We're almost to Canada already, you're too late. I hope you have a good life, you were a good friend." She hung up quickly.

"What do we do?" Norman asked instantly.

Shaking her head, she grabbed his phone from the dash, pulling a pen and a receipt from her purse. "We need to get rid of these, they might be able to find us with GPS."

"We can just turn it off," he suggested.

"To risky. I can't tell if Alex was acting or if he's really coming after us." She jotted down a few numbers from their contacts lists on the receipt before she turned the phones off. After she rolled down her window, she tossed the phones out, and Norman watched them splinter apart on the asphalt in the rear view mirror. "We can get new ones when we get to Paris."

"Of course, Mother."

She took his hand again, and they drove on.

.

 _"Should the wide world roll away... Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand Would be to me essential, If thou and thy white arms were there..."_

.

He parked as close as he could; it didn't matter, they were never going to see the car again.

Norma waited while Norman ran to get a cart for their suitcases. She wasn't allowed to carry any, and there were too many for him to get himself. Running her hand lightly along the edging, she thought of when she'd bought it. Right after Sam had died, when she was flush with money and full of despair. All she could think of was keeping Norman safe, and keeping them mobile in case anyone was after them. This car was a symbol in a way, a symbol of her commitment to protect Norman and keep him with her no matter what, and now they had to leave it behind.

"What's wrong, Mom?" She saw that he had returned, pulling a wheeled cart that reminding her of bellhops at fancy hotels.

"Nothing, honey. It's just... a big change."

"It is." He held her gently, letting her bury her face in his neck. "Its a huge change. But we'll be together, and everything will be good, Mom."

Hearing her own words echoed by her son made her laugh a little, though it came out a little like crying. "You're right, baby."

"We need to go, Mom, only an hour before the flight and we don't have our tickets yet."

She let him move away from her and watched him loading their suitcases onto the trolley, and soon enough they were in line to check their they came to the front, Norma stepped forward, Norman close behind. "Hi, we just need to check our bags and get our tickets. I didn't have a chance to print them out at home," she said confidently as Norman stood still and nervous behind her.

"Certainly! Can I see your I.D.'s please?" Norma fished their passport's out of her purse and handed them over to the worker, a young girl with her hair neatly pulled back. The woman reviewed their names and shot them a strange look, her gaze dropping to Norma's pregnant belly. "Heading to France?" she asked, tapping a few keys on her keyboard.

"Yes," Norma said. "We're moving there. We thought it might be nice to change some things before the baby..."

"Any luggage to check?" She charged their debit cards and placed identification tags on the four suitcases they'd brought along. Afterwards, she hit a button and a printer next to her started to make noise. "Norman Bates..." she said thoughtfully, perking up. "Aren't you the author of 'Execration'?"

Blushing, Norman stuttered. "What? No, that's just- no, just a coincidence." He laughed nervously. "I get it all the time."

The girl furrowed her brows, examining him. "But you look just like the picture in the book jacket... I know I've got it right here..."

"Look, can we just have our tickets please?" Norma's voice was raised, and she reached out to snatch them from the girl's hand. "We don't have time for this, we need to get to our flight."

"Mother-" Norman began to protest.

"Oh, uh, of course. Here's your passports. I'm so sorry." The girl looked contrite, but Norman felt her eyes on him as he followed his mother towards the left side of the international terminal.

"You didn't have to be rude," he said quietly.

"Did you want her to recognize us and then call the police if a news story comes on?" she hissed, clutching onto him as she lost her balance.

"We have time, Mother, just slow down."

Norma listened to him, slowing her steps. "What if we miss our flight?" she lamented, clutching his opposite hand as his arm wrapped around her waist to support her. "Where will we go? It'll be too late."

Security proved to be the greatest challenge. First, they tried to inspect Norma a little to closely for Norman's liking, but even after they'd determined she really was pregnant, they confiscated her ritodrine pills. "She needs those!" Norman nearly yelled, trying to take them back. "She'll go into premature labor without them!"

"They should have been checked," the security guard said coolly.

"But her name is on them, they're hers!" The other passengers were beginning to clear a space around them, clearly alarmed by his intensity.

An older woman sauntered over. "What seems to be the problem here?" She held herself proudly, eyeing Norman skeptically before she noticed Norma behind him, clearly leaning on his shoulder. "Is this your medicine, ma'am?"

"Yes," she said, perturbed as much as Norman. "It's because I had a scare a few weeks ago..."

The younger man who had initially detained them stood by stiffly as the newcomer looked at the description of the pills on the bottle and opened the cap to examine them. Then she closed the bottle back up and handed them back to Norman. "These are fine. Banks, we need to have a talk." She pulled the boy aside and waved them on passed security.

"Jesus," Norma muttered as Norman slung their carry on bags back over his shoulder and helped her walk. "Does every worker in this goddamn airport have it in for us?"

"I don't know, Mom," he said quietly. "I've never flown anywhere before."

They finally made their way to gate G100. It was buzzing with activity, and they could only find one open seat. Norman let his mother have it of course, and stood beside her. "We should be first to board," he said confidently. "You got the first class tickets, right?"

"Yes, of course." Being nearly eight months pregnant, the thought of flying in and of itself had been daunting. Norma checked their tickets and confirmed the first class status. While the waited the last few minutes, Norman bounced uncomfortably on his toes, glancing a little too nervously around the area. He couldn't shake the feeling that something would happen, something would go wrong; even with the minor inconveniences they'd experienced so far, nothing really terrible had happened.

A soothing female voice sounded throughout the seating area. "Now boarding first class for Air France Flight 217 through Gate G100."

"Here... Norma, come on..." He stuttered over her name, again hefting the two carry-on bags and her purse. "Let's get on the plane..."

.

 _"All the world's a stage,  
_ _And all the men and women merely players:  
_ _They have their exits and their entrances;  
_ _And one man in his time plays many parts..."_

.

After eight hours and two and half romantic comedies, Norma was immensely grateful Norman had suggested the first class seats. She lost count of how many times she had stood to walk up and down the aisle, how many times she'd used the restroom. Her back was killing her, and Norman had asked the stewardess for an extra pillow for her.

"Just a little longer," he said quietly, grabbing her hand. "We're almost there, Mom."

"I know, sweetie. I'm just tired of being on this plane." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, deciding it didn't matter anymore if anyone saw them.

He smiled and they settled back into their seats. "Try to get a little sleep, Mom. We'll be there soon."

"Okay, honey, I will." She reclined a little, covering up with the blanket. Three hours later, she woke up to her ears popping as they descended, landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Norman once again hefted their bags and held her purse, trying to support her with his other arm as they walked.

They stood in line at customs for what seemed like forever, and when they came to the desk, the woman behind it took their passports. "Why are you visiting us? she asked, accent heavy.

Norma moved closer, ahead of Norman. "Mon mari et moi nous dirigeons ici, nous avons un visa." She pulled out their visa's and presented them. "Nous sommes très heureux d'être ici!"

"What are you saying?" Norman asked quietly as the clerk looked over their paperwork.

"I told her my husband and I were moving to France." She smiled brightly at him, and he laughed once, kissing her. She felt elated, ecstatic that they could be themselves finally, in public.

He looped his arms around her waist as the French woman continued to examine their documents. After several long and excruciating minutes, the clerk handed them back their paperwork, smiling. "Oui, tout semble être en ordre. Bienvenue en France, Monsieur et Madame Bates!" she said, and she waived them on.

A little over a half an hour later, they stood on the side of the road, waiting for a taxi to take them to the hotel they'd chosen. The driver grabbed their suitcases and placed them in the trunk as Norman helped his mother get comfortable in the back. She gave the driver the address, and they settled back, holding each other closely.

"This is it, Norman," she said quietly, pulling him to her for a kiss. "We're here, and we're safe. Everything's gonna be good now. Everything's gonna be good."

For the first time, he really believed her.

.

To Be Continued... One last time.

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"What Shall I Your True Love Tell?" by Francis Thompson

"Should the Wide World Roll Away" by Stephen Crane

"All the World's a Stage" by William Shakespeare


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

.

.

This is it, my friends. For those interested, this is actually the first scene I thought of, and then I thought, "But how could they get there?"

And thus a fic was born, LOL.

A final thank you to my reviewers:

 **Hannigram-13** , I'm so glad tooooo! I always wanted them to have a happy ending, from the first episode! I hope this ending does it for you. Oh, **ALittleTasteOfMadness** , my love, you are a bright light in a dark world! How could I not write more fanfics when Norma and Norman are so wonderful, especially if you wish it? I sincerely hope you enjoy this last installment. Finally, **Cleo,** I couldn't agree more on all points. I sort of like Caleb, in that I feel sorry for him that he'll never get over Norma. Then again, who would? I love your insights.

Now then, you can ask thank **ALittleTasteOfMadness** for the name of the editor in this. She was happy to help! I will also let you all know, I'm working on a companion piece that will take us out further into our lover's future. Feel free to follow me if you'd like to be updated when I post it.

And now, our ending.

.

.

Seven Years Later...

.

" _Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;_

 _Three fields to cross till a farm appears;_

 _A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch_

 _And blue spurt of a lighted match,_

 _And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,_

 _Than the two hearts beating each to each."_

.

The taxi stopped at the curb, and Derek exited, paying the drivers a few euros with a quick word of thanks. He walked up the cobblestone walkway to the white house, taking in the scent of the sea air. This visit was always a treat, despite the uncomfortable question he had on his mind. He knocked lightly and waited.

Norman opened the front door, grinning at the sight of his editor. "Derek, come on in!" he said, opening it wider and motioning him inside. "Thank you so much for coming!"

The older gentleman entered, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. "I must say, it's always a pleasure to have an excuse to visit France when we have our meetings!" The gray bearded man shook Norman's hand heartily after he had entered and followed him through the foyer into the living area.

"Well, I know I must seem... neurotic." Norman gestured for him to sit on the white couch just inside the entrance before moving to the dry bar. "I just don't want to take time away from my family to travel. You understand."

"Absolutely."

"What's your poison?" Norman asked jokingly, pouring himself a small amount of dark red wine.

"I'm not picky," Derek answered.

Norman poured him the same and handed it to him. As he moved to sit opposite Derek, two children ran past, giggling madly. "Whoa!" he said, laughing. The third, a small blonde-haired girl, probably two and half at best, stopped and grabbed his knees. "Suzy, what are you doing?"

"We're playing Tag, and they made me 'it'," she said sadly, looking up into her father's face entreatingly.

Norman looked up. "Nancy! William!"

The other children came back, looking contrite. One was four or so, a dark haired girl with her father's intense gaze, and a blonde boy maybe two years older, fairer and with a more open expression. They both stood silently, looking at their toes. "It's not fair to make Susan 'it' all the time," Norman said softly, leaning to lift the smallest of them and hold her against his side. "She can't keep up with you. Find some other game to play."

"Okay, Peré," William said immediately.

Nancy was less quick to answer, but finally said, "I'm sorry, Peré."

"All right then." He looked down and saw that Susan was leaning on his shoulder, eyes drooping, her thumb in her mouth. "Is it naptime, Suzy?"

"Mmm..."

Norman smiled. "Sorry, Derek, just a second..." He angled away towards the entrance to the kitchen, voice a little louder. "Mother! Suzy is ready for her nap!" He completely missed his editor's wince, looking adoringly on Norma as she walked in. "I'm sorry, I'd do it myself, but..."

"It's fine, sweetie," she said, taking the small girl from him. "Nancy, Will, go and play upstairs so you don't bother Peré and Derek, please." The two of them headed up the stairs in the back, and Norma leaned forward too kiss him lightly. "Be back soon. I love you."

"I love you, too." He gave her a little pat on her bottom as she moved away and up the stairs as well, leaving Norman and Derek alone. "All right, we should be good now."

"Well, we're ready for the sixth book," Derek said, getting straight to the point. "We can keep the same terms as we had on the last, twelve percent of all copies sold."

"That's sounds perfect," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

"And the studio has agreed to let me be the physical liaison for the movie. You're still willing to help write the screenplay?" Derek was digging through his briefcase now, pulling out several papers.

"Yes, of course," he said, placing his wine glass down. "What do you need me to sign?" The older man handed Norman the papers, and as he was signing them, Norman finally noticed that he was fidgeting uncomfortably. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just..." Derek hesitated, clasping his hands together. "I've heard some disturbing online rumors recently, that's all."

Very suddenly, Norman set his pen down, looking at the other man intensely. "What sort of rumors, exactly?"

"Well... You have to understand, I take everything with a grain of salt. And I'm very open minded." Derek tried to catch Norman's gaze, but he was suddenly staring off slightly behind him. "It's just... your wife is quite a lot older than you, and... some people have concocted an idea that maybe she's..."

"No." Norman's voice was strong, but he was still looking behind his companion, completely focused on the air. "You're not real. I won't."

This made no sense to his editor. "Excuse me?"

Blinking, Norman looked back at him, seeming chagrined. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" He took another sip of his wine.

"They think, maybe she's not your wife... she's your mother."

.

 _"And you can't accept..._

 _An honesty is felt and seen."_

.

Norman was silent for a few moments. "I see."

"I don't mean to offend," Derek began.

"No, no, I'm not offended." He set his wine down and leaned forward. "It's true."

"I figured- what? It's...true?"

"I mean, technically she's both at this point, since we received a French marriage license a few years ago. I'm surprised that this hasn't come up sooner, honestly," Norman said, voice completely calm. "It was a big scandal back in Oregon, and it's not like I've hidden my name on the books. That's part of the reason we don't travel much." He leaned back, stretching his arm across the back of the chair he was in. "I hope this isn't a problem for you professionally."

Blushing furiously, Frank covered his mouth. Norman could tell his mind was racing, trying to come up with the right thing to say. "Well, that- that's certainly unexpected. I'm... Holy shit, Norman, I never thought you'd say it wastrue. I've been thinking of ways to refute it this whole time. How the hell did this happen?"

"It's a long story," Norman said, a far away look in his eye for a moment. "I've been considering writing a book about it..."

They sat in silence for a moment, Norman reminiscing and Derek trying to fight down his visceral aversion to what he was learning. "Well, I've seen you and Norma together for years, and you certainly seem happy. Your personal life doesn't have anything to do with your books," he said finally. "I suppose if the story breaks, which is likely, it'll be free publicity..."

Norman smiled, beginning to sign the papers again. "See, there's the bright side!"

As he flipped through the long pages of type, Norma came back down the stairs and moved to sit next to her son. "She's down. She must have been completely wiped out," she said quietly, adjusting her skirt. Then, she turned her attention to the editor. "Derek, it's so good to see you! I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you, I'm trying to get dinner ready. Juliette and Antoine are coming over with their kids tonight."

"That sounds lovely," he said blankly.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, shooting Norman a questioning look.

Norman straightened the papers, done signing them now. "Derek was just letting me know there's been rumors circulating on the internet that you're my mother," he said gently, taking her hand.

"Oh." Her eyes widened for a moment before her mouth set.

"I've told him the truth." He pulled her against him. "We knew this would happen eventually, it's okay."

Norma made eye contact with Norman's associate, but before she could say anything defensive, he spoke. "I'm not going to judge you."

"Good." She stood, her skirt swishing around her knees. "I'm just going to work on the bouillabaisse, then. I hope you have a pleasant trip, Derek." She strode purposefully from the room, both men watching her leave.

"I'll have to calm her down later," Norman said quietly. "She's been more worried about this than I have."

They sat together for a few more minutes, making idle small talk and discussing the time frame for the rough draft of the screenplay. It was clear that his editor, who he'd also counted as a friend, was very suddenly completely uncomfortable in his presence. "Derek," he asked seriously as his editor stood to go, "Nothing is different. We're the same people we were yesterday; you just know more about us now. Do you still want to have dinner with us tomorrow? Or have things change between us now?"

"I want to say they haven't, but... I'm not sure yet."

Norman nodded. "Let me know. I hope you can find a way to be comfortable with this. If it would help you to ask me questions, you can."

Pausing at the door, Derek swallowed. "When did you know?" he asked.

"When did I know I was in love with my mother?" Norman clarified. After Derek nodded, he smiled. "Since I can remember. It's always been the two of us. We belong to each other." Blanching, Derek thanked him for his time and rushed out, and Norman wondered if they would indeed be seeing him tomorrow.

He found Norma in the kitchen, chopping onions with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Checking to be sure the children were still upstairs, he came up behind her and kissed her neck. "We're alone now," he told her.

.

 _"The fountains mingle with the river,_

 _And the rivers with the ocean;_

 _The winds of heaven mix forever_

 _With a sweet emotion..."_

.

The sound of the knife stuttered and stopped, and her head dropped, face hidden behind blonde curtains. "How did he take it?" she asked quietly, turning to face Norman.

"About as well as you'd expect," he said simply. "We have Antione and Juliette, and all our other friends that know and still accept us. Even if we had no one but each other and the kids, it would still be enough."

"I know, baby, I know," she said, voice high as she frantically kissed his face. "But what if... what if the company decides..."

"Mother, stop it," he said sternly, squeezing her tighter. "You know we have plenty of money in our investments. If they won't publish me anymore, I can publish myself. Or we can live comfortably for the rest of our lives, if we're careful."

"Okay. Okay." She calmed slowly as he kissed her neck, moaning happily. His hand inched up her skirt, touching the bruises he'd left on her backside. "Norman," she giggled after a second.

"Do you need something to relax?" His hands squeezed, and she gasped at the slight sting of the abrasions being pressed. "I've been dying to use that new belt with the pointy studs..."

"Oh..." She took a breath, trying to bring herself under control. "What about the kids?" This really wasn't the time.

"I know." He gave her a lingering kiss before pulling back. "But later."

"Later," she agreed, tangling her hand in his hair.

She turned away to continue chopping. "Can I help you?" he asked gently.

"Sure! Would you get the fennel out of the refrigerator, please?" She gestured with the knife and began moving the onions into the the pot next to the cutting board.

He did as she asked, then watched her beginning to chop it. The scene was so similar from his childhood, yet so different. He thought of the moment he'd first held William in his arms and how proud and exhausted his mother had looked in the hospital bed. He thought of their children that were now upstairs, of Susan's sweet sleeping face, of Nancy's dark gaze, of William's bright curiosity. He thought of their evenings together on the beach out back, watching the children building sandcastles and swimming in the surf as he and Norma sat together on beach towels.

"Mother," said suddenly, and she turned to him. He took her hand. He was an accomplished author, but all his words seemed to have left him as he tried to express his emotions. "I'm just... so happy, here with you."

She smiled at him, love softening her eyes as she set down the knife. "Me, too, Norman."

.

 _"If this be error and upon me proved,_

 _I never writ, nor no man ever loved."_

.

~Fin

.

Poetry quotes taken from:

"Meeting at Night" by Robert Browning

"An Honesty is Felt and Seen" by Lawrence S. Pertillar

"Love's Philosophy" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

"Sonnet 116" by William Shakespeare

.

Thank you so much for reading! 3


End file.
